Now Is Light
by Black Hawk
Summary: The sequel to "Where Once Was Gold," though can be read alone. "I can't," he had said. "I'm broken." Yet the embers persisted, and she realized that she had not quieted her affection for him as much as she had hoped.
1. I Prologue: Teasing Out Dreams

Disclaimer: I do not own_ Stargate Atlantis _or its original characters and I am making no money off of this.

**_Author's Note_: **This story is the sequel to _Where Once Was Gold_ but can be read alone. It's a bit of an homage to one of my favorite films, _The Last of the Mohicans_. Any constructive criticism is more than welcomed!

You can also read this story with music and pictures at my site: http / nowislight. angelfire. com / NowIsLight. html without the spaces, of course.

**I. Prologue: Teasing Out Dreams**

_She stepped away from me and she moved through the faire  
And so fondly I watched her move here and move there  
And she went away from me with one star awake  
As the swans in the evening moved over the lake._

The sea breathed in long exhales like the distant sleeping sighs of a lover. The breeze that fluttered the drawn curtains carried the cool, tingling gusts of sea-scent as reminders of his island life, so different from his field-filled youth. He rolled onto his side, squeezing his eyes shut, yet unable to stop the waltz of memories in his heart. The dead danced before him in smiling whirlwinds, reaching out their hands then recoiling just when he considered grasping them.

The back of his neck and collarbone flushed with heat and sweat as he shoved off the sheets, sitting up to be better caressed by the cooling night breeze. The sea breath gave him small, welcome shivers. He cast his eyes over the straight edges that made up his room, studying the shadows cast by moonlight. He rested a hand on the cool metal of the nightstand. Try as he might, he could not bring himself to think of this place as home; especially not when he felt the sickening twists of solitude coil inside.

A part of him knew his child-like fear to stem from the isolation of night, yet another part snickered of something much darker as Melena's laugh echoed in his chest. He had dreamt of her again. He had dreamt that he was freely talking and laughing as he once did, then watching her die. One moment he'd been holding her warm hand and the next her hand had been charred and shriveled in his own.

"Melena," he sighed out her name as he rubbed his face before sitting up. Though his thoughts of her had increased since his forced return to Sateda, it had been about a week and a half since he'd dreamt of her. He breathed deep and tried to logically hunt down the trigger for the dream. Teyla's eyes filled his mind and he furrowed his brow, willing them away as he tried to focus. But they were replaced by her smile and the way the breeze teased stray strands of her hair.

He gritted his teeth at his uncooperative mind and rose, pushing back a curtain to gaze out at the shimmering field of water below. The near-full moon cast undulating shadows on the ocean's swaying surface. For a moment he lost himself in the shifting furrows and ridges of the sea, his eyes relaxing as the peace of sleep renewed its call on his body. He rested his temple against the windowsill, blinking languidly in the hoary light. A small shiver crept up his bared spine as a gust greeted him.

A woman's lyrical, lamenting voice wove into his conscious thought as he realized what the trigger for his dream of Melena had been. He smiled a little with relief that Teyla had not been the culprit this time. She was easier to ignore when she wasn't teasing out dreams in him.

Unbidden, the sensation of Teyla's hand resting in his made his fingers curl, as if around hers. He straightened as he realized what he was doing and let his hand rest against the windowsill. _It wasn't Teyla this time. Not Teyla. Why am I thinking about Teyla?_

It was Beckett - he'd been playing music as he worked on charts that afternoon. Ronon had stopped by to ask Carson if he wanted to go grab a meal with him. But the doctor had been pleasantly humming along with a tune, quietly singing words now and then. Ronon had paused in the doorway, the lilt of the song weaving into him. The lyrics had stolen his mind for the heartbeats that he listened and he was not returned to himself until Beckett sighed and shifted some papers and pressed a button on the CD player. The song repeated.

My young love said to me, "My mother won't mind  
And my father won't slight you for your lack of kind."  
And she stepped away from me and this she did say,  
"It will not be long love, 'til our wedding day."

She stepped away from me and she moved through the faire  
And so fondly I watched her move here and move there.  
And she went away from me with one star awake  
As the swans in the evening moved over the lake.

The people were saying that no two were ere wed  
But that one has a sorrow that never was said.  
And I smiled as she passed with her goods and her gear  
And that was the last that I saw of my dear.

I dreamt it last night that my dead love came in  
So softly she entered that her feet made no din  
She put her arms 'round me and this she did say,  
"It will not be long love, 'til our wedding day."

The final verse had haunted him and he didn't realize he was staring at nothing until Carson happened to reach for another pen and caught sight of Ronon out of the corner of his eye, starting and shouting "Good gracious!" with a hand over his heart, the pen clattering to the floor. Ronon had smirked only to be admonished for sneaking up on people before Carson accompanied him for lunch.

_I dreamt it last night that my dead love came in  
So softly she entered that her feet made no din._

Why was it so easy to love a ghost? _Because it is safe_, a voice very much like Teyla's answered for him in his own mind. He traced his fingers down the vertical frame of the window as he leaned against it again. _So what if it was safe? _The Wraith had stripped everything from him – was he not allowed this one sheltered harbor for what was left of his heart? The peace that comes from knowing that you will never again be burned by love if you are content to cling ghosts. "Forever," he whispered as his fingers reached the bottom of the frame. He had promised Melena forever. So he wasn't taking the easy way out but rather fulfilling his promise to her.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up when he thought of his dream and of Melena's charred hand in his. He wrapped his arms around his bare chest as he shivered again.

Familiar doubts flooded him. Maybe he wasn't being loyal to Melena. Maybe he was just a coward, too afraid of his own heart to even ponder a possible future with another. Teyla had warmed his hand once, her eyes hopeful. And he'd pulled away. He still grieved for Melena, and he still felt the pain of the space she once filled in his heart, but it had been seven years. He knew the pain wouldn't lessen much more. His defense was weak: he was clinging to the skeleton of a promise he'd made in another life.

It was when he was alone at night, like this, that he could acknowledge that he was afraid of the way Teyla lingered in his mind, the way her laugh stirred a sleeping dragon within, the way her brief touch teased out its coils and fire. She made him smile. Not only when they shared amusement over the frivolities of McKay, but when he was alone and her memory warmed him. When there was no one to see the veils fall away and he was brave enough to remember how hard it had been to let go of her hand.

His smile was replaced with a sigh as he knew that, come morning, the cowardice would return and he would once more be too afraid to look Teyla in the eye even if he wanted to. He wielded the memory of Melena like a shield, guarding his heart's blood. Guarding the essence of what once made him free.

He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Sheppard would expect him for their morning run in a few hours; best to try and get more sleep. With one last glance at the moon he tugged the curtain shut again and returned to his bed, pulling the sheets around his shoulders and nudging his forehead against the pillow to find a resting place. He hugged the extra cloth of the sheets to his chest as he momentarily sucked on the inside of his lower lip.

Fearful of another nightmare, he reminded himself that Melena was gone and that he had never held her charred hand in his. He started to wonder how well Teyla was sleeping but checked himself and chased away the ponderings by trying to remember what he'd eaten for dinner the previous night. By the time he'd remembered, his eyes had closed on their own and his legs felt too heavy to move. He shifted his waning focus to the sigh of the sea, reminding himself that he was someplace safe and that he was needed – that he was alive – and that he could fall back into his comforting armor in the morning.

_**Please review!**_


	2. II Serpentine Tune

**II. Serpentine Tune**

The stringed instrument plinked and planked, drums rolling in tune as a lone flute's wind slithered through the air. Teyla danced, her hair catching in red glints as the lantern light shimmered. Her movements were fluid and hauntingly seductive, like the serpentine tune. She rolled a shoulder back, craning her neck so that her hair cascaded down her back only to lift again as she twirled.

"I take back what I said earlier. This stuff is _really_ good." McKay tore off another piece of the fried bread, chewing while he spoke. "I mean, seriously," his voice squeaked in amusement. "Why can't we make something like this?"

Ronon's head felt like it was floating somewhere just above his shoulders, pulsating sleepily in time with the music as he watched Teyla and the shifting shadows of her back before another dancing couple obscured his view. He dragged his eyes away from the dance floor and looked at the greasy bread. "You're gonna be sick tomorrow."

McKay just laughed. "Oh come on, this stuff's harmless."

Ronon smirked and took another gulp of the juice, rolling his tongue over the fiery aftertaste of alcohol. He looked back to the center of the room where couples were dancing. Sheppard was laughing as the blonde he danced with reached up to feel the tip of his ear. Ronon searched for Teyla but she was already on the other side of the room, pausing for a drink.

"Here, try some of this, Carson." McKay tossed a piece of fried bread towards Beckett.

Carson swallowed hard as he looked at it. "No thanks, Rodney. I've had enough already."

Rodney shrugged and ate the proffered piece.

Ronon lifted his cup to Beckett. "C'mon Doc, drink up."

Carson looked rabbit-eyed from his place in the corner. "Don't you think you've had enough already, Ronon?"

Ronon finished the mug with a satisfied lick of the lips. "Nope."

Beckett let out a quiet sigh. "I just never was one for parties."

"Oh please, you're Scottish," McKay spat as he chewed. "You people nance about in skirts drinking scotch and eating sheeps' stomachs."

Beckett gave him a warning look.

Ronon studied the two, feeling as if the room were swaying slightly. "...Skirts?"

McKay turned to him with a smug, lopsided grin. "Yeah – men wear skirts where Carson's from. In fact-"

"Shut up, Rodney."

"- they do this ridiculous little twirly dance thingy called the, what is it Becky? The Highland fling."

Beckett stared at the table before him in shock. "Becky?"

McKay shrugged. "New nickname. They also-"

"It's a woman's name!"

Ronon looked Carson up and down and shrugged, looking back to the dance floor. Beckett's mouth fell slightly agape. "I don't _believe_ you two! Are you trying to say that I look like a woman?"

McKay snorted into his drink. Ronon smiled a little and raised his eyebrows, talking over his shoulder. "McKay says you wear skirts."

Beckett straightened. "They're _not_ skirts, they're kilts! And the Highland fling happens to be a very respected-"

Sheppard practically collapsed onto the table. "Did you guys _see_ that blonde chick? She was practically-"

"I could shoot her for you," Ronon offered with a playful light in his eyes.

Sheppard straightened and tugged his shirt back in place. "No thank you, Ronon – I happen to actually _like_ that kind of attention."

Ronon glanced behind Sheppard at the blonde who was busily gossiping to a friend while studying Sheppard from behind. "I can tell." He looked back to Sheppard, trying not to laugh.

Sheppard narrowed his eyes and mock slapped the air in front of Ronon's face. The Satedan's grin broadened as he leaned away from Sheppard's arm. Sheppard straightened again. "Like you would know anything about... well... that sort of thing."

McKay spoke from behind the brim of his glass. "Mmm," he held up a finger to mark his point. "His last name does rhyme with-"

"Rodney!" Beckett gasped.

McKay slowly turned to Carson, drink dripping down his chin as he slurred out "Whaaat?"

"I think you've had enough to drink."

Rodney began to laugh hysterically, dropping his head into his arm on the table and pounding the tabletop with his free fist. He gasped out "'enough'!" and continued to laugh.

Sheppard and Ronon watched the exchange with furrowed brows then slowly met each other's gazes. Sheppard's upper lip and eye twitched. "I'm not even gonna ask."

Ronon shook his head, looking at the laughing Rodney again. "And I don't wanna know..."

Beckett had his face in his hands.

Sheppard playfully punched Ronon in the shoulder. "C'mon – you gotta at least dance with a girl."

Ronon's voice suddenly became grave. "I'm fine."

"I saw that brunette in the corner checking you out a few minutes ago..." Sheppard dragged the sentence out with a nod towards a middle-aged woman who seemed to have taken up permanent residence next to the alcohol barrels, her reddened bosom practically falling out of her corset. Ronon's eyebrows twitched together at the embarrassing sight. Sheppard followed his gaze then looked back to his teammate. "Okay, maybe not her."

Teyla had made her way to the table beside theirs and was tying her hair back, acknowledging a comment made to her by one of the female villagers with a bow of the head. Sheppard looked over at her. "Here ya go – dance with Teyla."

Ronon stiffened and looked between Teyla and Sheppard. John smirked then gently grabbed Teyla's elbow to get her attention. "Hey Teyla." She smiled at him and stepped over. "Ronon wants to dance with you." He lightly pressed on the back of her shoulders as he let her fill where he was standing in front of Ronon.

Ronon couldn't move. He'd forgotten who he was.

Teyla had her brow furrowed since he made no effort to get out of his chair. "Did you...?"

He had to move his lips a few times before any sound came out. "I..."

Teyla took his hand and he rose out of the chair, abandoning his empty glass. "I know of several young women here who would like to dance with you." She winked at him.

It was all he could do to get his feet to move as he walked a few steps away from the table with her. "I don't really..." He watched all the other couples laughing and kissing and enjoying themselves.

"...dance?" Teyla finished for him with an amused expression.

The Satedan nodded, feeling unsteady on his feet even though he knew he hadn't yet drunk enough to feel so lightheaded.

Teyla leaned in close and he stiffened as he felt her breath on his neck. "Fear not," she whispered. "It is not as difficult as it appears." She gave his hand a small tug as she stepped back into the flow of bodies, Ronon following weightlessly behind her, his stomach slowly catching up to his mind as the butterflies within brought him to the point of nausea. It got worse when Teyla placed one hand on his shoulder and twined her fingers with his.

"To victory!" a reveler shouted as he sloshily raised his mug, his rosy cheeks shiny in the lamplight. A chorus of "to victory" answered him as the locals congratulated themselves on their recent defeat of their rival tribe. "And to our new friends who bless us with the fortune they bring!" the man continued and he was once again met with shouts from his fellow villagers as they sought out members of the Atlantis team to thank them for the alleged luck they had brought the tribe in defeating their enemy.

Ronon shared a perplexedly amused look with Teyla as a male villager vigorously shook Carson's hand. Teyla laughed as the man then kissed the Scot on the cheek and Carson colored. Ronon grinned and looked back to Teyla. "Says he wears skirts, too."

A corner of the Athosian's mouth twisted up. "I believe it is called a kilt."

Ronon's brows inadvertently raised a little as he struggled for a witticism since she'd obviously already had a crash course on Scottish culture. He lost all track of thought, however, when her chest brushed against his as she scooted closer to make room for a large man who was passing by. Ronon's stomach wrenched when her leg slid against his and he took in a surprised gulp of air at her sudden proximity, yet his surprise was drowned by the new tune starting up. The man squeezed his way past and Teyla took a step backwards again, yet the Satedan's flesh maintained the body heat of her touch.

The echoing twang of a stringed instrument was joined by the slow pulsing of drums and a flute that wove like sparrows in flight. Couples began to dance once more and with a jaunt of horror, Ronon realized that his palm was sweating. He extracted his fingers from hers with an apologetic smile, afraid to meet her eyes, as he wiped his palm off on his hip. Teyla's posture exuded patience and began to put him at ease. _It's just Teyla you goober. Just Teyla..._ Just Teyla. He clumsily replaced his hand in hers and she raised her brows in question. He dipped his head in a tiny nod and she took a step backward. "Wherever I go, you follow."

He nodded, looking down at his feet, suddenly afraid of stepping on one of hers. She brought her foot forward again and he hastily retracted his own. She smiled encouragingly. "Good. I retreat and you follow." She looked down at their feet. "It is an old dance." She flicked her hair out of her eyes as she looked back up. "You do not want me to get away."

They moved back and forth, her hips swaying outward with each step. He tried not to notice. "If that's the point then I could turn Running into a dance."

She looked amused as their feet accidentally bumped into each other's. "I believe that is called chase."

His brows were furrowed as he continued to stare at their feet, his cheeks coloring from having just missed a step and bumped into her. "Right..." He wanted to join Carson in his dark corner with a gallon of alcohol to hide in.

Teyla loosed her fingers from his to hold his hand more lightly. "Just move. I lead and you follow." Her arm was suddenly in the air, taking his with it, and she spun beneath. He couldn't help but laugh a little. Sheppard hollered a "whoo hoo!" from nearby, cheering her on. The distraction and resulting laughter as she bonked into the Satedan on her spin back towards him managed to unknot some of the sinews of Ronon's shoulders. He began to listen with his hands, using his physical link with her to read what she asked of him as the music gained in momentum. With a slight start he realized that some timed had passed and he'd stopped worrying over where to step and was simply moving, holding out his arm to twirl her out and reel her back in with the beat of the music; feeling the twist and pulse of her tendons and the pressure of her palm sing to him of her movements, guiding him.

She grinned at him as she moved freely, her eyes encouraging as she knew he gained confidence. Her breath tickled his face as she pulled in close from a spin, sweat freckles on her nose. Her hand slid from his shoulder down his bicep and across his forearm until her fingers found those of his hand on her hip. She guided his hand up to the back of her shoulders and as she did so his eyes fleetingly cast out towards the dance floor, afraid of the pleasant jolt inside at her touch. He noticed other men with their hands in similar positions, seemingly slinging their female partner from side to side as she twirled from one arm to the next. His feet almost froze as he realized that he had no idea what she was asking him to do.

Teyla gracefully spun away from him towards his other hand, which he instinctively held out for her to catch. Her palm met his and before he was able to give her a questioning look she was twirling again, then her arm suddenly hooked around his waist as her hip bumped his, prodding him to pivot to the side as she dipped backwards with one hand around his waist, her other still held in his. Her ponytailed hair rubbed against the cloth of his long-sleeved shirt in sticking clumps. He froze, not daring to move, even though she was supporting her own weight.

He tensed as he felt her begin to shake yet slackened with relief as he realized that she was laughing. An inescapable smile crept over his face as well as she straightened and tucked a few sweaty strands behind her ears, releasing his hand. He felt the pressing need to say something as the silence between them continued to pulse, the heat of the dance and their nearness suffocating. A part of him wanted to apologize for being such a bad dance, a part wanted to compliment her on being a fine dancer, but the part that won out was silence.

She ran a hand over her face, hiding her eyes from him. "I have not-"

Sheppard and his blonde partner had suddenly waltzed to their side. The colonel was looking aghast at something on the other side of the room. "Oh for the love of lemons..."

Teyla and Ronon followed his gaze to find McKay ridiculously waltzing with Beckett on the other side of the room. The Satedan burst out laughing. Teyla looked between her two teammates with slight concern. "Dr. McKay appears to be-"

"Drunk off his ass," Sheppard finished for her.

"And puttin' the moves on the skirt-wearing Doc. B," Ronon added.

Teyla's jaw dropped in slight indignation and amusement as she looked from the Satedan to the two Earth men. Rodney was a stumbling mess and Beckett's previous look of horror seemed to be replaced with grim determination as he forcefully waltzed McKay right out the door.

Ronon looked amusedly at Sheppard. "Uh oh – looks like the two need some alone time."

Sheppard glared at him and was about to vouch for Beckett's unwavering dedication to his patients when his eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up. "Ronon, that's the most perverted thing I've ever heard you say!" He suddenly looked concerned and glanced away. "Oh my God... I'm rubbing off on you..."

The music ended with applause and the musicians bowed then began packing up their instruments. The blonde tugged Sheppard into a corner as the revelers began to disperse. Teyla wiped at the sweat at her hairline. "That was very enjoyable." She gave him a smile of thanks as she began to step away.

"Teyla?"

She looked back to Ronon.

"Thank you."

She smiled again and inclined her head. "And you as well."

He watched her walk away for a few beats then remembered his gear left at the table and turned back to retrieve it.

_**Please review! **_


	3. III Tailing Not Far Behind

_**Author's Note:**_ Feel free to read this chapter, like all the rest, on my site with music and pictures! http/nowislight2. angelfire. com/TailingNotFarBehind. html

_**III. Tailing Not Far Behind**_

The festivities continued on into the next evening and at the villagers' request, the Atlantis team stayed on for another night. They sat around a fire, laughing amongst themselves as shouts and cheers echoed from the ongoing celebrations of the villagers.

"I was _not_!" Rodney barked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You were, too, lad. If I hadn't gotten you out of there when I did you would have seriously embarrassed yourself!"

McKay gave Carson a skeptical look. "Oh please, I was perfectly in control of all of my actions."

Sheppard took a sip of his soup with raised eyebrows. "So you danced with Carson on purpose." McKay's mouth fell lopsidedly agape. "Really Rodney - and here I was thinking you went for blondes."

Teyla and Ronon shared an amused expression as Beckett chuckled, having had time to recover from the incidents of the previous night.

"I..." When McKay couldn't think of a proper retort he grabbed a stick and lobbed it at the chuckling colonel who bore the impact with laughter.

"Oh come on now, let's leave him be," Carson quietly chuckled as he prodded the burning logs with a stick, adjusting them.

"Yeah, it's not like you guys were all sober, either." McKay narrowed his eyes at Sheppard and Ronon.

"I don't think anyone was as wompy as you, McKay."

Rodney swung his head around to Ronon. "_Wompy_?"

Ronon smiled a little as he shrugged. "Yeah, wompy. That's what we called it where I'm from."

Sheppard smirked. "I like that. Wompy." He looked to Rodney. "Wompy McKay."

"I'm afraid I don't understand." Carson leaned forward more to better see the Satedan. "What does 'wompy' mean?"

A corner of Ronon's mouth lifted in amusement. "You know." Ronon wiggled his head and swayed comically in his spot. "Wompy. When you drink too much."

Carson and the others laughed and Sheppard lightly tapped Rodney's arm with his fist, letting him know that it was all in good fun.

"Well, amusing as this is, I think I'm gonna go get some sleep." McKay rose.

Sheppard grinned up at him, his eyes dancing. "Just don't stop off at the ale barrel, Wompy."

The others chuckled and Rodney gave Sheppard a sarcastic "very funny" look before heading towards the tent the villagers had erected for him.

After a few moments of quiet Teyla glanced around at her remaining teammates. "Do you not feel somewhat guilty?"

Sheppard set aside his empty cup of soup. "Over teasing Rodney? No way – the man's got an ego the size of my... well... I'll leave you to wonder." He smirked and both Ronon and Carson hung their heads, exchanging a look of amused incredulity.

Teyla looked merely tolerant. "That is not what I meant, Colonel."

Sheppard had sobered for her sake. "Then what did you mean?"

Teyla took a breath as she glanced towards the nearby village then at the tents by the river that the villagers had provided them. "Do you not feel guilty over the fact that these people have shared with us their homes and their food under the impression that we bring luck?"

Ronon studied her. "No one asked them to."

Teyla weighed his words for a moment. "Yes, however this battle that they were fighting against their enemy was certainly not won by our arrival. They honor us for a falsehood."

Sheppard shifted his weight to get more comfortable, crossing his ankles over each other. "Well, I guess you could look at it that way. But who knows? Maybe we really did help in some weird-a-butterfly-flaps-its-wings-in-Hong-Kong-and-in-New-York-you-get-rain-instead-of-sunshine sort of way."

Ronon had his brow furrowed. "Hong Kong? Is that like _King Kong_?"

Sheppard couldn't hide his snort of amusement and Carson glanced away to hide his smile. Ronon looked between the two then to Teyla who shrugged.

"Well," she sighed as she rested her hands on her thighs as she rose. "I believe I will take a walk before I retire."

Sheppard yawned. "Okay. Night."

Carson mumbled something about turning in as well and rose, dusting off the seat of his pants where he'd been sitting on a log.

A raucous shout rose from a stumbling male villager in the distance and Ronon watched him with narrowed eyes before looking to Teyla's retreating form. He muttered "Night" to Sheppard and Carson then followed after the Athosian, both disappearing into the shadows.

Teyla glanced over her shoulder at the Satedan and continued, pausing when she realized that he was following her. She raised her brows to him questioningly in the dim light cast by the village and the waning moon. "Yes?"

Ronon paused a few feet from her. "...You said you were going for a walk."

Teyla glanced at the path that ran parallel to the river then back to Ronon. "Yes, I did. Did you wish to join me?"

He broke off a stick from a nearby tree and glanced back over at the lively village as he took a step forward. "I don't think it's very safe for you to be alone out here with so many wompy men around."

She resisted a smile at the Satedan term and lifted her chin. "Thank you for your concern, Ronon, but I assure you, I will be fine."

She couldn't see his eyes but she knew that they were still on her, rooting her feet to the ground. He let out a quiet "okay" then began to turn to leave.

"But if you would like to come I would be glad of the company." She wondered at why she'd said the words as soon as they left her mouth. She had originally felt the need to be alone and as far away from her male companions as possible, but Ronon's concern softened her resolve and his quiet respect and acceptance of her decision reminded her of how soothing his silent presence could be.

He shifted to look at her again and the light from the village haloed the lumps of his hair. There was another bout of profane shouts and laughter from a woman in the village and Ronon glanced over at the settlement. The large-chested woman who had been eyeing Ronon the night before staggered against the outside of a building in laughter. The Satedan hastened to Teyla's side and she smirked. "Are you sure it is not you who wishes for my protection?"

"I'm definitely hiding behind you if she comes over here." He cast another wary glance over his shoulder and Teyla shook her head in silent laughter.

"Come." She stepped down onto the river path, Ronon following. A familiar, welcome silence fell between the two as they walked. The sound of their light footfalls was drowned out by the gurgling of the river, whose waters appeared black capped in shimmering silver in the night light, and a few times the logical part of her mind wondered if he were still behind her. She shoved her doubt in her hearing aside and did not look back to check – she didn't need to. He was silently there, as always.

As the village became more distant the scent of smoke was replaced with the sweet, earthy smell of riparian trees and grasses. The shouts of the revelers were replaced with the shifting tones of the river and the rustling of the leaves as a gust shifted through them. When the village was just a few dots of light in the distance a wooden bridge crossed the river. Placing one hand on a post, Teyla hopped over the mud bordering the first planks and walked into the middle of the bridge. She glanced over to the path to find Ronon continuing a short distance, his eyes on the looming forest ahead, allowing her her space.

She smiled in a silent thank you and turned back to the river rushing past her, closing her eyes and breathing deep the cool scent of the water and allowing the coils of her mind to loosen and lose themselves in the gentle undulations of the water. She tilted her head back a little, listening, before opening her eyes to the clear sky fringed with leaves. She traced the visible stars overhead with her eyes, wondering at the inherent beauty of vastness.

The water changed its whispers for a moment to allow for a subdued _plop_ and she glanced behind her to find Ronon still a ways away, attempting to skip stones on the river's surface. She looked back out at the water and rested her elbows on the railing, her chin in her hand as she allowed the shifting light on the water's surface to entertain her. _Like dancing faeries_.

There was another plop and she bit her lip at the boyish antics that were teasing the river water behind her. A cool gust rippled through her skin, giving her goose bumps but she resisted the urge to rub her arms. _'I can't,'_ he had said to her as he recovered in the infirmary from his return to Sateda. _'I'm broken._' He had pulled his hand away from hers, leaving her to struggle to regain her composure and confidence. She had accepted his pain and his fear and had tried to stamp out whatever flicker of a flame that had been kindled by him. Yet the embers persisted, and for a few heartbeats the night before when she once again held his hand as they danced, the embers glowed, and she realized that she had not quieted her affection for him as much as she had hoped.

She knew he saw her as a teammate, nothing more, and when he had sensed that she was beginning to care for him in a deeper way he'd pulled back. She had understood and attempted to curve her emotions accordingly. Then why did just knowing that he was behind her playing with rocks, that he had been concerned for her safety to the point of wanting to accompany her yet respecting her independence when she originally declined his offer, bring her such peace and subtle flattery?

A night bird called from a nearby tree and both humans hastily looked to the canopy, momentarily alarmed by the chirping chuckle. Teyla glanced to Ronon to gauge his reaction only to find him already watching her with the same intent. The moonlight shimmered off of his cheek and nose bone as he cracked a grin and she laughed softly, hopping over the mud and returning to the river path.

"You ready to go?"

His voice sounded almost intrusive after the whispers of the river, trees and her own thoughts had filled her mind. She smiled in thanks for his consideration. "Yes." She began back toward the village, knowing that he tailed not far behind.

They did not speak again until the lights from the lanterns hanging outside of their tents warmed the ground. She looked back toward the housing where a few shouts still echoed. She smirked, remembering Ronon's large-breasted admirer. She slowed and threw her smirk to the Satedan. "...Just out of curiosity... what _would_ you have done if that woman had approached you?"

Ronon arched a brow, glancing at the settlement to assure himself that said woman was nowhere in sight before shifting his gaze back to Teyla with narrowed eyes. "Why do you ask?"

"Well," she said as she fingered a bud on a nearby sapling. "You previously stated that you would hide behind me."

He smiled a little and she could make out more of his face now that her eyes were fully adjusted to the dim lighting. "Yeah, I did. Though I probably would have claimed that I had something urgent that I had to do and run off."

Teyla flicked some of her bangs out of her eyes as she shook her head. "I saw that woman's expression, Ronon. She would not have given up so easily."

He fidgeted slightly, glancing between the town and Teyla, struggling to understand what she was getting at. Teyla's smirk widened and she gently wrapped her fingers around his forearm. "Come with me."

His pulse began to race as soon as her hand was on his arm and by the time he had managed to calm his heart and scold his body for such a frivolous reaction to her proximity it began all over again when he realized that she had led him into her tent. He glanced around as she released his forearm. Her bed was in the center: a few sleeping pads laden with maroon blankets and pillows. The villagers had also provided her with a trunk to place her possessions, along with a small table. A drinking skin hung from the center of the tent poles. His eyes traveled to the bed once more.

"Is this arrangement very different from your own?"

Ronon looked to her, fighting back a blush as hard as he could when he realized that he'd been staring. "...Uh, I don't..." He trailed off when she circled around behind him. He started to pivot to follow her but she placed a firm hand on the small of his back. "Do not turn around." He stiffened slightly, trying to look anywhere other than her bed yet seeing as it was in the middle of the small tent it was hard to avoid. "Now," she began, "I know you are fully capable of self-defense, however, what would you have done if that woman had approached you from behind?"

He stared ahead, trying to keep his thoughts from dwelling on the possibilities of what Teyla might do next. "I wouldn't hurt her, I'd just-"

"How would you disentangle yourself from her without hurting her? You are not exactly gentle when cornered."

A small gust played with the flaps of the tent and the water skin swayed slightly. The scent of Teyla's hair was carried with the breeze over his shoulder, momentarily dulling his thoughts. He took a deep breath attempting to clear his mind, suddenly feeling awkward and nervous. He pivoted to face her and spoke with a soft voice. "Teyla, I'm taller than just about any woman I've ever met. I think I can handle myself around unwanted attention."

A corner of her mouth lifted in a smirk. "I am sure you could as well, however brawn is not always a suitable means of communication and when using force one always risks injury. It is better to use words or, if necessary, to tactfully retreat."

He tilted his chin to the side. "'Tactfully retreat'?"

Her smirk turned smug. "Yes. For example, if you were to grab me," she placed one of his hands on her waist and another on the back of her neck. He stiffly held them in place. "I could simply do this." She reached her arms up over his and twisted them out and up again like paddling oars, angling his arms out of place through leverage. He let his hands fall limply to his side as she tucked a few of her bangs behind her ear. "In such a manner I accomplish what I wanted and no one was hurt."

Ronon arched a brow. "In a completely civilized situation of course."

"Of course."

"Because otherwise the guy could just grab you again." He shot his arms out around her waist and behind her neck, grabbing onto her clothing and hair to demonstrate the futility of her own escape techniques against a more willful adversary. Her lips parted in surprise at his sudden movement, but she met his challenging expression with narrowed eyes, twisting her arms up around his again and attempting to twist them off of her. When she pushed, however, he just held onto her clothing and ponytail tighter, matching her strength with his own, and all she succeeded in doing was bring her chest closer to his. She flexed again, breaking her own rule and trying to use sheer force to break his hold.

His mouth twitched in a smile at her furrowed brow as she concentrated, looking down at his arms, pushing against them as hard as she could. It hurt, but he held on. Sweat beaded on her nose after another try and she panted as she relaxed, clearly annoyed. His lips were suddenly alive with a tickling inside and he couldn't take his eyes off of her mouth as she sighed, finding her proximity and scent intoxicating.

She looked up at him with a reprimand in her earthen eyes but her expression immediately softened into one of interest when she saw the sparks of desire behind the green of his gaze. She knew he was looking at her mouth and jaw line and with his gaze thus adverted she freely let her own wander his lips, faintly registering his slow release of his grip on her. His chest began to heave, bumping against hers as their breathing quickened and she found herself leaning in, consumed by the gentle pulsing in her lips that yearned for his. Resting a hand on his bicep, she almost smiled when he leaned towards her, as well, her lips parting further in anticipation.

"Teyla I'm turnin' in for the night so if you want to take the-" Sheppard froze halfway into her tent, his eyes wide as he glanced between his two teammates who appeared to be sharing something rather intimate. He blinked and cleared his throat a little as the two hastily separated, stepping away from each other. "Sorry, I..." he gestured to the gaping tent entrance. "Your flap was open so I assumed you were..." Teyla tugged at her top. The Satedan and Athosian were both bright red and Sheppard attempted to hide an amused smile.

"I was just..." Teyla was dragging out her S's as she tucked her hair behind her ears, wiping at the bridge of her nose. "Instructing him in a form of self-defense."

Ronon looked like he would charge head-first at the tent wall if he could escape that way.

Sheppard nodded and bit his lip. "Yeah, it uh, sure looked like it." Teyla did a double-take when he winked at her as he backed out. "Never mind about being on watch. I think these folks have proven that they're pretty safe." He was now out of the tent and unhooking the entrance flaps, letting them swing shut. "You two just, keep practicing that self-defense."

They watched his shadow retreat. Ronon closed his eyes briefly as he tilted his face up towards the ceiling, the memory of what just happened replaying in his mind, making him blush repeatedly. Teyla folded her arms across her chest, her mind racing for the appropriate response to such an unexpected situation, avoiding looking at Ronon. "I did not intend..."

He waited for her to finish, keeping his gaze on the grass floor of the tent in the opposite direction of her, but she said no more. "...It's getting late."

She looked over at him. "Yes, it is."

He barely spared her a glance as he hastened to the entrance flaps. "Sleep well, Teyla."

He ducked out and was swiftly away almost before she could reply with, "And you." As soon as she was sure he was gone she power-walked to the entrance and tied the flaps shut, plopped onto her bed and buried her face in her hands with an incredulous, embarrassed smile.

Ronon, for his part, made a beeline for his tent, purposefully ignoring Sheppard's tent lest he be watching for him. His hands shook as he secured the flaps and he growled at them before yanking off his belt then falling onto his knees, hiding his head under the blanket before keeling over onto the bed, still burning with horror over what had just occurred.

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	4. IV For a Few Fleeting Moments

**http/www. angelfire. com/nowislight2/ ForAFewFleetingMoments. html **

**V. For A Few Fleeting Moments**

He arose just before dawn, careful of the blade held to his throat as he crawled out from under the covers. He would have fought back, but two men standing beside his tent's entrance flaps held McKay. The scientist was already bleeding from the temple and nose and the knife a buckskin-clad warrior held to his throat was pressed against Rodney's stubble, threatening to slice if he breathed too quickly. So Ronon arose with his hands on either side to show that he would not struggle.

The large man at the foot of his bed eyed him through his obsidian gaze. His skin was hardened and browned from the sun and a black tattoo sprawled over his muscular shoulder like a splayed spider. Dark war paint fanned across his nose, tapering over his cheekbones to form two curls on either side of his shaved temples, like a ram's horns. His stiff mohawk was dyed red at the tips and the battle regalia that hung limply from beaded straps around his leather leggings was enough to indicate the man's status as a war chief. He studied the Satedan at length then jerked his head making his bone earrings clank together before stepping past the warriors who held McKay and out of the tent. The two with their blades pressed against Ronon's torso and throat prodded him forward.

But that was hours ago. Maybe even a day ago – no – it couldn't have been a day yet – the sun hadn't set. He would have noticed. Though it seemed like an eternity since Sheppard had been dragged from their midst. They sat now huddled together in one of the villagers' cabins, listening to the occasional sickly quiet scuffs and gasps of combat as the villagers either fought against this invading enemy to protect their homes or to escape. Yet the lifeless stares of the dead littering the streets sang the grim wails of mourning and despair in the Satedan's heart, harkening images of his homeworld. Though he did not voice it, he knew that this attacking people meant to leave none alive.

He watched as Beckett once more glanced to the haloing light of the closed door. McKay was hunched in on himself, unnaturally quiet – silenced by the voiceless dead he'd beheld on the walk from Ronon's tent to the cabin where they were now kept. Teyla appeared to be waiting patiently, though her spilt lip belied her previous struggle with her captors. She dragged her gaze away from the guards and glanced at Ronon. He could do nothing more than hold her brown gaze, for speaking meant a beating from one of the hawkeyed sentries.

Ronon sighed, shifting his legs on the dirt floor as he made a futile attempt to stave off cramps and aches from remaining on his backside for so long. Beckett glanced over them with his brows knitted together before shooting an accusatory look at the guards.

The Satedan could scarcely make out the sounds of approaching warriors and would not have heard their moccassined approach had it not been for the dragging of dirt that accompanied it. A few short words in an entirely foreign tongue were barked at the guards within the cabin and they moved to open the door. The warriors tossed in a semi-conscious Colonel Sheppard.

Carson immediately lunged to Sheppard's side, catching him as he fell as his lips parted at the lacerations and bruises that marred his face. He looked to the guards who spoke quietly amongst each other and barked out "you _monsters_!" in a betrayed voice. The warriors glanced at him yet seemed to have relaxed their stance on speaking and allowed the doctor his anger and did not molest him as he gently lay Sheppard down on an anxious McKay's lap and attempted to assess the injuries.

Ronon didn't take his stalking glare off of the warriors and was fighting back the adrenaline that rushed from his chest, cooing to him that with the energy it lent his arms he could take on all five guards.

"Will he be alright?" Teyla's concerned voice drew his attention away from their captors and back to Sheppard once more.

Carson glanced at her. "I don't know, love; he's been beaten fairly badly. There could be some internal wounds that I can't treat – not without a hospital."

She spared a glare at the guards before looking back to Sheppard, gently running her hand through his hair.

Ronon inched closer and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Why haven't they killed us yet? They've killed everyone else in sight."

"Because, genius," Rodney said as he swung his head to face his teammate, "the villagers claimed they'd won a battle against them because of our divine help. They probably want to know how we helped the village defeat them."

Teyla furrowed her brow. "But we did nothing other than arrive."

"Yes, well, that's doing enough when you're _divine_."

Beckett cursed as he lifted Sheppard's shirt to examine his side. Ronon ground his molars together as he spoke, "You'd think it'd be pretty obvious that we're humans just like they are."

"And what information could they hope to gain?" Teyla whispered to Rodney. "We do not even share the same language."

"Obviously there isn't much _speaking_ involved," McKay stated as he grimaced at Sheppard's injuries.

Teyla let out a shaky breath, glancing to Ronon once more with troubled eyes. They were both leaning on their palms in the dirt and he shifted his weight as he inched out his right hand to rest it over hers, but just then several more warriors spilled into the cabin and the guards surged forth, shoving him away and yanking at Teyla.

The bare arms and torsos of the warriors barred his vision as they hauled Teyla to her feet and twisted her skin as she attempted to resist. Ronon's heart rate sped as thoughts of Teyla just as bruised and bleeding as Sheppard taunted him. He roared as he shoved the warriors off of him and rose to his feet, taking a step toward her only to be restrained by several strong arms as they dragged her to the doorway. He shoved his chest against them, fighting to tear his arms free of their suppressing grasp but he was outmatched. He screamed out her name as he relaxed his muscles for a heartbeat, luring his repressors into letting down their guards before he yanked on their human bonds again, managing to free an arm which he reached out to her.

She twisted away from the men forcing her to move and reached out a free hand to his.

Ronon strained again and for a few fleeting moments their fingers slipped against each other's as their eyes locked. He started to curl his fingers, attempting to hold onto some part of her but a war club suddenly came down on his forearm, breaking their contact as he gasped in pain. His hair was being used to yank his head back and force him earthwards as elbows and blunt weapons collided with his sides. He heard the scrape of the door being yanked shut and with it his adrenaline dissipated and he ceased resisting, sinking to the ground as the blows lessened. Satisfied that he was subdued, the warriors backed away as one barked what he assumed was an admonishment or a warning.

By the time the pain from his new injuries no longer stole his breath only the guards remained in the cabin with their prisoners. A warm hand rested on his shoulder and he looked up to see Beckett. The older man's gaze held compassion and anguish. Ronon clasped Carson's forearm and pulled himself upright once more. McKay was eyeing him with a mixture of reverence and patronization. The Satedan ignored the expression as he pressed the heel of his hand to the side of his bruised ribcage, grimacing at the throbbing fire within as he inhaled deeply, knowing he had a cracked rib.

"Let me take a look at-"

Ronon none too gently shoved away Carson's healing hands with a gruff "I'm fine."

Beckett gave him a stony "no, you're bloody well _not_," look before returning his attention to the unconscious Sheppard.

Ronon followed his gaze, and the horrific image of Teyla with similar injuries as the colonel made him flood with adrenaline and in one swift movement, he lunged at one of the guards at the door. Within a few heartbeats the other man was gasping for air as he traded blows with the Satedan and the first guard was kicked onto the ground. Ronon raised his fist to slam the side of his fist against the other man's temple when the other guard scrambled to his feet and struck him in the side of the head. Ronon staggered for a moment before his knees buckled and he crumpled to the ground.

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	5. V Dangerous Creatures

**V. Dangerous Creatures**

Ronon awoke with a start as a burning cold dug through his temple. He gasped loudly and heard the muffled voice of Beckett attempting to soothe him. He opened his eyes and the bench on the inside of the Puddle Jumper came into focus. He gritted his teeth as Beckett wiped at his wound again, stifling a cry as he sought to recall how he had been injured.

The taste of the dirt of the cabin floor, the steely black orbs of the war chief's eyes and the feel of Teyla's desperate fingertips brushing against his suddenly filled his senses and with a quickening pulse he gasped out her name. Carson had turned his back to grab a butterfly bandage and noticed movement out of the corner of his eye as Ronon attempted to sit up. "No, lad, don't-" The Satedan had already sat up and was wincing, looking about to vomit. "-Sit up." Beckett sighed.

Ronon let out a frustrated groan as nausea sickeningly twisted his insides, making the contents of his stomach lurch and swirl.

Carson placed a hand on his back to support him. "Now you've done it." He kept a hand on his shoulder as the younger man threw up.

As soon as his stomach stopped heaving, Ronon wiped his lips off with the back of his hand, panting and speaking quietly. "I have to find her."

Carson placed a hand on his jaw, silently asking him to hold his head still as he readied the butterfly bandage. "You're not going anywhere except to the infirmary."

Ronon winced again as the bandage tugged on the skin around the wound, sending shooting pains through his skull. He looked out at what he could see through the open back of the Jumper. They were still on the planet, however Lorne and a team were milling about helping villagers carry away their dead and tend to the few survivors. His stomach jolted with a breath of alarm as he realized that Teyla could have been taken hours ago. "Where is she?"

Beckett glanced to his face as he gingerly smoothed the sides of the bandage. "I don't know, but Major Lorne and a few marines are asking around the village to try to find out where those men took her." He pulled away to look Ronon in the eye with a nasal sigh.

Ronon licked his dry lips, blinking past the tears the stinging of his head wound had beckoned. "What happened?"

Beckett shook his head a little, his brows twitching together. "They left with Teyla. I still had my radio and about an hour later Dr. Weir contacted us since we missed our check-in. Sheppard had awoken by then and we informed her of our situation. Major Lorne arrived shortly after we were able to break through one of the cabin windows."

Ronon gingerly touched the new bandage as Carson pulled off his examination glove, his fingertips brushing against the mushy, swollen flesh. "I've been out for an hour?"

"Longer."

Ronon shifted his feet and looked down as one bumped against something, realizing that he was sitting on a stretcher.

Beckett opened his mouth to explain how Ronon had gotten there when his earpiece chirped and he received a radio transmission from Lorne. "Aye, Major. What is it?"

The Satedan could faintly hear Lorne's voice crackling through. "We've asked just about everyone who survived and no one has any intel. Apparently these warriors just swept in and swept out. They have some sort of village up in the mountains."

Carson hung his head, momentarily closing his eyes. "So now what?" He could feel Ronon's green gaze scrutinizing his face as he listened.

"We head back to Atlantis, drop off our wounded, re-group and come back with more reinforcements. They were traveling on foot so they can't have gotten too far. I'm almost to your side of the village. Lorne out."

Carson looked to his hands for a moment before looking to the Satedan. "Alright. We're taking you and Sheppard and Rodney back. It would be best if you lay-"

"I'm not going back." Ronon began to force himself onto his feet, ignoring the sudden blossoming of pain in his side and Beckett's firm grip on his shoulders.

"Yes you _are_, lad!" The Satedan closed his eyes as nausea made him gag inside once more and his head throbbed with each heartbeat, muffling Carson's voice as the concerned doctor spoke. "You have a concussion, what looks to be an injured rib, multiple other injuries and you can barely stand as it is. You're going to the _infirmary_."

Ronon opened his eyes as the nausea lessened and the world slowed in it's dizzying spin about him. "I'll be fine. I've had worse."

"Frankly, I don't bloody care!" The Scot stepped between the Satedan and the exit, his arms arced at his sides until he pointed a finger at Ronon. "There is _no_ reason for you to be killing yourself trying to be useful when-"

"There's no telling what they're doing to her."

Carson blinked at the low growl in Ronon's voice. The Satedan straightened his shoulders, raising his chin and Beckett slowly closed his mouth, recognizing the resolve in the younger man's eyes. He knew that the Satedan and Athosian shared an intimacy that neither Pegasus native exposed to those from earth. He had seen them in the infirmary as Ronon recovered from his forced return to Sateda. Teyla had fallen asleep in a comforting hug after having barely left the Satedan's side. From that brief glimpse Carson knew that Ronon was comfortable enough around Teyla to admit to the pain. The fear in both of their eyes as Teyla had been dragged away, and the suicidal rage that had possessed Ronon's frame after she was taken was more than enough support of what the doctor had long been suspecting of the two, and he felt his heart flush with empathy.

Ronon saw the shift in Carson's gaze as compassion began to glow in his blue eyes. He pressed his boundaries by taking a step forward. "Every minute counts, Doc." Carson had tilted his head upwards to meet the taller man's gaze, his brow slightly furrowed. "And I'm not leaving her with them a _second_ longer than she has to be."

The doctor's shoulder bumped against Ronon's chest as the Satedan slowly walked past, steadying himself on the descent down the Jumper ramp. Beckett turned to watch him; the jerkiness of Ronon's knee betrayed the fact that he was trying not to limp. Swayed as he was by Ronon's drive to find the woman who had begun to glimpse his wounded heart, he could not allow him to walk into what was sure to be a fight when the stubborn lad was already so injured. He glanced down at his medical kit and crouched, grabbing a syringe filled with sedative, biting the inside of his lower lip. Yanking the cap off, he rose and took a guilt-tinged step towards the ramp but paused. The Satedan was nowhere in sight.

"How in the hell can you _lose_ him?" Sheppard stared at Beckett from his seat on the ramp of the second Jumper, holding an ice pack to the back of his head.

"He just walked off and disappeared! I turned my back for a few moments to grab the tranquilizer pen and he was gone!"

Lorne shifted his weight, his lips parted lopsidedly, also studying the doctor. "Did you look for him?"

Beckett blinked and nodded. "Aye, a wee bit, but then you lads showed up and-"

Sheppard cut him off, pulling the ice pack from the back of his head with a quiet crinkle. His split lip and the swelling darkness around the lacerations and bruises on his face caught the sunlight in their tightness as he spoke. "He went after Teyla." Lorne furrowed his brow at him. Sheppard licked the irony, puffy cut on his lower lip as he moistened them. "If anyone can find her, he can."

Beckett sighed, shifting his weight. "Aye, but he's in no condition to be romping about in the woods. He was unconscious for an hour and most likely has at least one broken rib."

"I know, doc," Sheppard said as he looked around, wincing as he now placed the ice against a swelling bruise on his tricep.

"So... what?" Lorne looked between the two. "We go after him? We go after Ronon who's going after Teyla and take him back to the-"

"No." Sheppard heavily exhaled, closing his eyes. "We won't be able to find him." Beckett turned grim as he looked to Sheppard. The colonel returned the look for a moment then spoke again. "We stick to the original plan. Take McKay back to the infirmary and return with more men. With any luck, Ronon's had enough sense to leave some sort of trail."

"Now wait a _bloody_ second," Beckett spoke with a furrowed brow, his eyes locked onto Sheppard's. "You're going back to the infirmary, as well."

Sheppard opened one eye and looked up at the doctor. "I'm _fine_."

"Oh now you sound like Ronon."

"Well sorry but it's the truth," the colonel drawled. "There isn't much more you can do for me anyway and I'm not leaving two members of my team-"

"You look like a bloody Dalmatian with all of your bruises! What makes you think you-"

Sheppard squinted in the sunlight as he rose and spoke with a slight squeak in his voice. "Well good. Dalmatians are dogs and dogs are good at tracking." He handed the icepack back to Beckett who looked to him incredulously with his lips parted.

"I don't _believe_ you people. You're injured and you think you can just take off and-"

"Who's going where now?" McKay's nasal voice broke in as he stepped up to the small group.

Sheppard glanced at him as he gingerly re-shouldered his vest. "Nothing. We're going after Teyla and Ronon and you're going back to the infirmary with Dr. Beckett so he can have at least one patient to cluck over."

Lorne tried to hide his smirk by turning away from Beckett's wide eyes as he said "_Cluck_?"

Rodney wiped off his hands on his trousers, looking between Lorne and Sheppard. "Ronon already left? I only have a little bump on the head, there's no reason I shouldn't go with you guys and help you find them. I've been meaning to try and reprogram the lifesigns detector to differentiate between animal and humanoid life, anyway."

Sheppard raised his brows. "Is that possible?"

McKay shrugged one shoulder, checking his pockets to assess his food supplies. "Maybe. Dunno. I haven't fiddled with it yet."

"Well then fiddle away on the journey," the colonel said as he took one of the P90s, which their attackers had confiscated then left behind, from a nearby marine.

Beckett snatched another from an unsuspecting soldier then glared at the three. "Well if you lot are so hell-bent on killing yourselves, _some_one has to look after you."

The three others exchanged fleetingly amused glances.

Lorne forced the smirk off his face, turning to Sheppard. "We can always scan the area with the sensors on the Jumper to try and locate the group."

Sheppard shook his head, going through the gear left in his vest. "That still doesn't solve the problem of finding somewhere to land on those mountains." He shaded his eyes as he looked up at the tree-covered slopes surrounding the valley of the village. "They look worse than the Rockies."

"And probably full of... dangerous, man-eating creatures..." McKay quietly quibbled.

Carson slowly looked to him.

Lorne licked his lips, studying the ridges as well. "Then let's not waste a minute. Let's get our gear and head out."

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	6. VI The Hunter

**http / nowislight3. angelfire. com /TheHunter. html **

**VII. The Hunter**

An iron grip yanked on Teyla's bicep, hauling her to her feet. She narrowed her eyes at the woman who was shoving her forward with bruising fingers. "That is _not_ necessary."

The woman furrowed her brow and backhanded her across the cheek, scolding her in her foreign tongue.

Teyla righted herself, her adrenaline screaming at her with feline ferocity to hit the woman back. But her wrists were bound behind her back with cutting twine and, surrounded as she was by the band of traveling warriors, challenging this woman was not wise. The Athosian tore her gaze away from the other female, bearing the throbbing burn of her cheek with gritted teeth, masking the pain. Her chest heaved as she struggled to absorb the fire that was willing her to fight into her tiring muscles, lending them perseverance.

The woman urged her to follow the group of warriors departing their resting place by a river. Despite being shoved, Teyla kept her feet firmly under her and took her first step after the band of her own accord. The dried grey of the rocks on the fringe of the riverbank scudded beneath her boots as she picked her way over them, careful to remain surefooted as she continued to attempt to memorize the landmarks of the path they'd trodden. It was now late in the second morning of her trek as a captive and the more time that passed without any sign of her teammates or a rescue, the more she feared for all of their fates.

Sheppard had been unconscious when they had been separated. Rodney had a head wound and Ronon... Ronon had been torn from her side, beaten from her after the lightest brush of their fingertips, yet in that brush, in that futile attempt to drag her to safety she had glimpsed the tornado of his heart. The warriors had locked the door of the cabin and yanked her away, and within a few feet she could hear him bellow inside, like a caged lion, then after the door shook a sickening silence pervaded the air and she knew that Ronon had been injured. Because of her. For all she knew he had been killed. All of them could have been executed by the handful of warriors that hung back around the village for a short while before rejoining the group.

She had no way of telling where the band was headed, other than deep into the recess of the mountains where she assumed they had some sort of camp or village. The attack had been a massacre – the warriors took little from the dead and seemed intent only on killing as many villagers as possible. Whatever feud the two peoples were locked in, it was one of deep scars. She studied the lithe, muscled forms of the painted warriors around her. They knew she wasn't from the village, which was why she was still alive, yet she knew not why they help her captive, bringing her with them to their destination. Unlike the villagers, these people didn't seem to think that she and her teammates brought luck. Looking at the weapons they all bore, she wasn't sure they would understand something as intangible as luck – it was clear that they made use of everything in their surroundings.

Yet how they considered her, a prisoner, to fit into their plans, she didn't know, and didn't let herself dwell on it for fear of the possibilities, and instead focused on the looks of the leaves, attempting to catalogue their shapes and shades to help her navigate back to the village when the opportunity arose.

* * *

The pain had become as constant and as customary as the hammering of his heart as he kept up a steady ascent, running when he could, climbing and shoving his way through brush when he couldn't, but never daring to pause long enough to sit still for any length. He knew that if he rested now his muscles would stiffen and the lack of the distraction of the passing scenery and seeking signs of those he pursued would leave him alone with the pain and his own harrowing thoughts.

The cold air burned his lungs with each labored heave of his chest, but the horror of the thought of what the group of warriors could be doing to Teyla gave him more than enough determination to press onwards without faltering. He'd been unable to save Melena and silently vowed that he'd do everything he could to save Teyla. The fear he had seen in her eyes as she was dragged away from him was the same as that which echoed in his heart. She had gifted him so much and a part of his mind was surprised to realize that he was fighting for her, not as a friend whom he loved, but as a kindred light to his heart, glowing and growing with each smile and light touch. To feel the exhilaration of that young light once more, after it had so long been diminished, had been as if he'd truly seen the sunrise for the first time.

Memories of his affection for Melena once hindered him but now, when faced with the possibility of Teyla being torn from his heart forever, they were hastily tucked away as a flame that would always glow to lend him strength from what she taught him, while Teyla's laughter flourished where his timidity had been.

He growled as he urged himself to run faster with a flush of adrenaline as the fear of the pain of losing another so dear to him reinvigorated his step. The sensations of his body were eerily comforting for he had been forced into such physical and emotional stress several times before in his life as a Runner. Except that this time he was not the hunted, he was the hunter, and not only did he have his memories for company, but the rekindled hope of a future with one who bade his heart to sing.

The broken branch of a shrub caught his eye and he registered it a few steps later. He doubled back and examined the break; the tear in the fibrous wood ran towards the ground and the branch hung from a twisting tendon of red bark. It had intentionally been broken. He swallowed, the warmth of his own saliva momentarily warding off the throbbing pain of the cold air in his throat. The branch was either broken by someone trying to throw off any potential pursuers by creating a false trail, or by Teyla as a marker of where she'd been.

He moistened his lips, his eyes rapidly scanning his surroundings. Further down the steep hillside the ground leveled out a bit and into a gravelly shore which served as a riverbed when the river that now ran beside it was full. Scanning the visible length of the snaking water he could see no fallen trees or other means of crossing the rushing white. He looked back to the broken branch, fighting down the side of him that instinctively wanted to keep running for the sake of movement and honing in on the logical part of his mind that told him to choose his course of action wisely.

He flushed with visions of Teyla being brutalized and the image drowned out the rest of his senses, inhibiting his coherent mind for a few heart-gripping moments. Needing to move, he made his way down the fallen leaves of the hillside, skidding to a halt on the gravel along the river. His eyes roved the smoothed gray, white and black stones, coated with the crust of the dried minerals of the water. There were several indentations from feet, yet they could be from the wildlife that frequented the river.

He growled lowly in frustration, half-turning to resume his trail further up the hill when he noticed a bleached tan hue among the leaves of one of the nearby trees. He took a step towards it, angling his head to better see as his breath clouded before him. It was a thick twine rope and following its length upward with his eyes revealed it to be secured to a branch above. Stepping on the exposed roots to get close, he unintentionally tore some of the chunky bark loose as he grabbed at the end of the rope. Sticks rained down on him as he yanked the twine free and he blinked the bark and dirt out of his eyes.

His upper lip curled as he now confirmed that the broken branch had been a ruse. He backed up and hopped onto the knot at the bottom of the rope, swinging across the river as his palms burned from the scratchy twine. He landed in a clearing on the opposite side, wincing as his ribs were jarred, stealing his breath, and tucked the rope into some low-hanging branches. The terrain ahead had clearly been trampled and he knelt beside one of the tracks, pressing his fingers into the mud within the footprint. It was cold, moist, and dented easily beneath his fingertips. The corners of his lip lifted in a small smirk as he rose and picked up speed once more. He was catching up.

* * *

Teyla eyed the approaching dark-bellied clouds as she swallowed water the war chief offered to her from his leather flask. She let the excess trickle down her cheek, not bothering to wipe it with her shoulder since any movement now aggravated her bleeding wrists around her twine bonds. It was the third morning. She knew that even if Sheppard and the rest of her team survived there was nowhere to land the ship on the slopes that they were climbing. Her hips and quads were stiff from the past few days of ascent and her feet were blistering and sore.

The thought of losing Ronon and her other friends brought such a deadening weight to her chest that she wouldn't allow herself to think of it. The pain of her weeping heart would only weaken her resolve to maintain as much of her stature as possible. There was still a chance that they were alive and she'd learned over her years in Atlantis to never prematurely assume death.

Swallowing, she looked into the obsidian eyes of her captor. His gaze held hers for a moment before traveling over her form. Though she knew him to be the leader of the war party she did not hide her sneer and she showed as little outward apprehension as possible as he studied her. A shiver slithered down her spine as he fingered her un-pierced earlobe, making the hair on her arms and the back of her neck stand on end. She jerked away and his brows twitched together. He cocked his head a little and his bone and bead earrings jangled, a small light in his eyes showing his amusement at her defiance. Yet she held his gaze, unblinking, willing all of her determination to survive and to escape into the set of her jaw and the strength of her eyes. He reached out his hand again to touch her face but was distracted by a fellow warrior calling his name.

Turning to face his comrade, the two spoke heatedly for a moment. Several others stepped forward, listening to their alarmed voices with concern etched onto their brows. Teyla glanced at them then back to the war chief, whom she had discerned was called Mogodda, as he singled out two warriors and spoke several commands to them, gesturing towards their back trail. They nodded then departed together, loping back the way they'd come.

Mogodda pivoted, glaring at the warriors surrounding them. He barked an order and they began to move once more, their weapons and supplies clanking in a chorus. Teyla took a step to follow but paused when she felt his gaze on her again. She turned to face him and he was eyeing her suspiciously, his eyes falling to her tied wrists. She glanced him over, feigning disinterest, and then turned her back on him, falling into step with the others.

Her eyes once more flicked to her surroundings as she chewed the inside of her lower lip. Mogodda seemed to think that someone was following them, which fed the blossom of hope in her chest that at least one of her teammates had survived. She knew she couldn't reach her pursuer before the dispatched warriors did, but her resolve to escape that night solidified. She had waited long enough and she didn't want to face the revelation of Mogodda's reason for her capture if she could avoid it.

She fought back a smirk. Whoever was on their tail was fast and not far behind, or else Mogodda wouldn't be so perturbed. She bit her lower lip again as the hope of Ronon's survival fluttered in her chest.

_**Please review!**_


	7. VII No Fear

http / nowislight4. angelfire. com / NoFear. html

**VII. No Fear**

He'd only meant to stop to drink, but now he found himself fighting sleep, dizzy, nauseous, and starving all at once_. Get off your ass. You'll never forgive yourself if something happens to her. Get. Up. _His stomach lurched, making his broken and bruised ribs grate against each other and he realized that sparing a moment to maintain the functionality of his body was useful.

He tugged off his shirt as gently as he could and had to take a moment to catch his breath, wincing from the deep, creaking pain, then withdrew one of the knives he had scavenged from one of the bodies in the village. Though the attackers had been sure to strip him of his weapons, he was now haphazardly armed with two knives and a tomahawk. He planned to use the blade to cut the hem of his shirt into several strips to bind his chest to keep his ribs as still as possible, yet he'd only touched the blade to the fabric when the hair on the back of his neck rose. Closing his mouth to quiet his breathing, he listened intently. Though he heard no footfalls above the trickling of the stream near which he rested, a bird took flight, soaring towards the Satedan on pulsing wings with a small chirp.

Ronon stiffened, his left hand slowly reaching for his second knife as he readied his first. A war cry sounded behind him and he whirled about, wielding both knives. The enemy had launched himself at the Satedan and in one swift move, Ronon slashed one blade across the other man's throat and the other knife grazed his side. The would-be assassin landed hard on his shoulder, spurting out hisses of air through the slice in his bleeding neck. Ronon stumbled onto one knee as he turned to assess the damage he'd done to his attacker. The man was in his death throes and Ronon couldn't believe his luck over scoring such a crippling blow. A rush of adrenaline shot through his limbs, numbing his pain and fatigue.

Climbing back onto his feet, he took a step towards the dying man. Though he didn't recognize his face, the leather breeches and shaved portions of his head gave him away as a member of the enemy war party that held Teyla. The man looked up at him through wide eyes, gurgling desperately. Ronon sneered, raising his knife to strike a final blow.

An arrow struck him, stabbing a lock of hair into a nearby tree and Ronon yanked his head around just as another arrow sped towards him. He dropped to his knees, his pinned hair yanking then giving as it broke loose, as the shaft stuck into the bark where his chest had just been. He caught a glimpse of the brown of his attacker's skin slipping through the trees in an attempt to find a better vantage point.

Grabbing his tomahawk, Ronon screamed and charged forward, barreling through the underbrush. His attacker was hastily stepping backwards, nocking another arrow, but once Ronon was within a few feet he dropped his bow and ran. Ronon skidded to a halt beside the abandoned bow, wrenching back his arm and hurling the hatchet. It hit its mark with a cleaving thunk and the fleeing man fell face forward, sliding down a hillside.

Ronon pursued, slipping and sliding his way down the incline until he reached the form of the second man. His body was limp and decorated with dark war paint. Ronon yanked the blade out of his back with a quiet snap. The attacking warrior's spine had been severed and he was dead, as undoubtedly was his comrade by now. The Satedan's chest heaved to catch his breath as he wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm. This was the first he'd seen of the enemy since he began his crusade and the satisfaction of knowing that he'd just bested two of the warriors who were sent to stop him filled him with a strength he knew he did not physically possess.

He grinned when his eyes fell upon the deer trail the two had traveled on to reach him. They had been so certain that they would accomplish their mission that they didn't bother to hide any sign of their passing. He thought about going back for his shirt but the trail was temptingly close and he didn't want to see the body of the first warrior again, lest the consequences of his actions beyond the logic of survival begin to taunt him. The pain of his injuries was beginning to creep up on him once more but he broke into a run along the deer path, the thought of Teyla's nearness lending him fortitude.

He concentrated on the thud of his heartbeat in his ears and the pulse of his blood as a song he had learned as a child drummed into his consciousness, bringing with it the memory of solstices celebrated with his village in the farmlands.

As the harvest came to an end and winter's icy tendrils tainted the air and annual celebration was held in a cleared field not an hour's walk from his home. Stalks of dried wheat were burned in a bonfire and he used to crane his neck to watch the top of the flames dance above him. Several songs were sung with drums and flutes and he could not remember a time that he did not know them by heart. They were joyous to the ear, though their lyrics in their antiquated tongue were often morbid, and he remembered playing chase games with his friends in the fields while the music echoed to them, often drowned out by their squeals.

_Kinderly is now my coming  
into this world with teres and cry  
litel and povere is my having  
britel and sone I falle from hit  
sharpe and strong is my deying  
I ne woth whinder schal I  
foul and stinkande is my roting  
on me, Winter you have mercy!_

His mother used to take him by the hand to the fire as the villagers laced fingers in a large circle, slowly dancing their way towards the flames. He and his friends made games of testing themselves through the massive heat – whoever could get the closest to the blinding fire would win. He never won. He had always thought risking pain for so silly a thing as bragging rights was ridiculous. He would peel away from the others and play with his little sister instead, showing the toddler all the wonders of the night sky and the falling leaves.

Things changed when he got older... suddenly risking pain to near the flames was no longer silly but was the only logical reason to attend the celebration. Through their teens he and his friends' games of chase morphed into wrestling matches and the rare fight when the teasing became insulting. Shortly after their wedding, he and Melena had attended one such celebration and his heart had swelled as she and his sister goofily spun each other about in the light of the fire as he looked on, his mother hugging his shoulders with a laugh...

Ghosts... they were all ghosts now... Teyla would have loved the celebration. She was always asking him about his culture. He swallowed hard as he panted, not allowing himself to eye the intimidating height of the rise before him. Once Teyla was safe again, he'd have to tell her about the autumn celebration. Maybe they could even celebrate their own version as an homage to the Satedan dead, for the celebration was meant as an honor to the dying world as winter approached.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set and Mogodda was directing the group towards their camp for the night, still several miles distant beyond a glacier-carved cliff. Teyla squinted at it in the light of the sinking sun, trying to chase the despair from her bones at the sight of the ground to be covered. Her body protested at her every step and the band was now moving in single file to get across the rock shelf of the cliff to the forest on the other side. 

She looked to her feet then down the side of the cliff as she stepped onto it. The sheer wall stretched below her for nearly a hundred feet, dotted with hardy shrubs and disappearing into the canopy below. She swallowed, inching towards the side of the trail closer to the cliff wall which stretched above her about fifty feet. When she slipped away that night this trail would be dangerous to negotiate. She felt her resolve begin to dim so she shoved the thought to the back of her mind, focusing instead on once more running through the list of landmarks that she'd memorized to guide her escape back to the stargate.

* * *

The incline continued without end in sight and his thighs and shins were burning mercilessly but he knew he couldn't stop or he'd lose his momentum and the choking, throbbing pain in his head and torso would collapse him. He couldn't let that happen now. He was almost there – the bushes at the top of the slope were still swaying from the passage of the last warrior in the column when Ronon had reached the base. The brow of the slope was now in sight. He readied his knives, using them to dig into the soil to aid his ascent when necessary. 

His chest was burning with each heaving breath as sweat trickled from his brow and temples when he crested the slope, shoving past the bushes to gaze at the column of warriors half a mile away, traveling along the cliff trail. His jade green eyes scanned their length and his face broke into a smile when he recognized Teyla among them and knew by the nature of her motion that she was relatively unharmed.

He stepped onto the ledge, glancing down at the hazardous drop and the smoothed lumps of the cliff face. It looked as if it had once been the site of a massive ancient waterfall. He licked his lips lips in-between heaving breaths then returned his gaze to the column, resuming his pursuit at as quick a gait as he dared upon his weakening legs, willing his remaining strength into his limbs.

Teyla's plotting of her escape and fretting over the fate of whoever was following the warriors was interrupted when there was a sucking crunch from the tail of the column. She and several others turned their heads to look at the source of the sound. A wide-eyed, stiff-standing warrior at the back of the column lurched forward, revealing the tall Satedan warrior behind him as he yanked his knife free, not pausing in his challenging glare to the rest of the warriors as the body fell to his feet and slumped, sliding off the cliff.

Mogodda took a step towards the Satedan and Teyla's eyes widened as her lips parted. _Ronon was alive_. Mogodda shouted an order and her breath hitched in her chest as two more warriors at the end of the column whooped and charged, tomahawks drawn.

Ronon readied his dual knives, slashing each in turn where he knew they would be crippled most – his blade tore through the bicep of one and as he ducked a blow, the back of the knee of another. Both screamed in pain as they collapsed, neither having succeeded in dealing Ronon a blow as he stepped over them, his eyes leveled at Mogodda. Another warrior screamed and lunged at him with her war club but Ronon ducked. She lost her balance from the fruitless force of her swing and he rammed his shoulder into her chest. With a shriek of surprise she stumbled and fell over the edge of the cliff, sickeningly silenced when her skull split open upon an outcropping, leaving a dark stain as her limp form tumbled into the canopy below.

Teyla felt her stomach lurch at the sight and, along with the rest of the column, tore her gaze from the bloodstain to the Satedan. Ronon looked away from where the woman had fallen, as well, his chest heaving as he once more locked eyes with Mogodda whose brow furrowed. The two warriors held each other's gaze for several heartbeats, the challenge clear. Slowly, deliberately, Mogodda unsheathed a dagger and a tomahawk, accepting the unvoiced stakes.

Ronon sheathed one of his bloody knives and readied his tomahawk, matching the other large man's weaponry. Taking a deep breath, he bellowed out his own war cry and surged forward. The remaining warriors backed away from the small outcropping where Mogodda stood, tugging Teyla back with them. She didn't dare speak lest she break the Satedan's concentration.

The bodies of the two warriors eclipsed the light of the setting sun as they clashed before it, their hatchet handles ringing with a sharp crack as polished wood met polished wood. The light haloed their heads and shoulders golden as they shifted, each throwing his weight behind his weapon, trying to loose the footing of the other. Ronon screamed as he shoved Mogodda away from him then readied his knife for a sweeping strike at the older warrior's middle but Mogodda spun away from him, extending his blade behind him as he spun, slashing Ronon across his bare chest. The Satedan chocked on a cry of pain and surprise as the long gash that stretched diagonally from his breast to his hip began to instantly pulse out warm blood.

Teyla lurched forward but the hand of another stayed her. "Ronon..." she whispered, desperately twisting her hands in an attempt to loose her bonds, ignoring the pain and blood produced.

A corner of Mogodda's upper lip lifted in satisfaction as he watched Ronon eye the damage done to him. The Satedan looked back up, feeling the tap of his blood dripping from his abdomen onto the tops of his boots. The fire in his chest was growing stronger with each heartbeat. The glint of triumph in Mogodda's dark eyes sent a surge of adrenaline-filled fear and fury through the Satedan and with another scream he lunged for the war chief, feinting a swing with his hatchet. As Mogodda moved to block the blow, Ronon stabbed the other man between the ribs. Mogodda grunted and pulled away his tomahawk to swing at the dark bruises on Ronon's side, slamming the hilt into them, eliciting a satisfying scream from the Satedan.

Teyla yanked away from the hands that restrained her with a protesting shout upon hearing her teammate's scream. A hand yanking her hair back stopped her from stepping forward further.

Ronon fell onto one knee, his vision momentarily dimmed by the pain arresting his breathing and nearly toppling him. But his vision cleared within a heartbeat and through the haze of faerie lights that littered his vision he could see Mogodda yanking the blade out of his side with a grunt. Ronon rose to his feet, his arms and legs shaking visibly. He raised his hatchet and swung at Mogodda once more with a gasp but Mogodda's brawny arm raised his own hatchet in defense, barring the blow. As Ronon shoved against their once more locked blades, Mogodda used the knife the Satedan had stabbed him with to slice his hamstrings in the back of his thigh.

Teyla closed her eyes and looked away as the Satedan fell, the leather pant leg of his breeches now staining dark, as well. She could hear Ronon's shoulders slap against the surface of the rock and she opened her eyes, hesitantly looking to him, fighting the horror and nausea welling within her chest. Her lips parted as she realized that Ronon's eyes were upon hers and she held his gaze as Mogodda placed a foot on either side of the fallen warrior, stepping one moccassined foot in the growing pool of blood beneath the Satedan. Her heart beat faster as her brows twitched together, her lips moving soundlessly as she struggled to breathe around the desire to hold him in that heartbeat, safe from harm.

Ronon tore his gaze away from the earthen brown of Teyla's eyes as his vision swam, looking up at the silhouette of the warrior above him as it cleared once more, as the older man postured himself for victory. The Satedan could feel his strength fleeing him through his wounds with every beat of his heart... _but it's still beating. There's still a chance. Get up. Get up now, Ronon. She's right there – just right there, within a few feet of you_. _It's almost over. Just get up and fight, you coward. She's right there. Right there... _He took in a deep, searing breath and struggled to get onto his knees, but his bad leg was little more than a quaking, bleeding excuse of a support.

Mogodda took a step back, giving the other man his space to regain his footing to finish the fight.

Teyla yanked and wrenched at her bonds, gasping a little in pain as she watched Ronon shakily struggle first onto his knees then onto his feet, pressing a palm against the thigh of his good leg for support. Mogodda narrowed his dark eyes at Ronon as the Satedan stiffly brought himself to his full height, straightening his shoulders and tilting his chin outwards defiantly. Blood slicked his torso and the shaking of his arms and spasming of his wounded leg contradicted the fierce strength of his eyes as they remained locked with Mogodda's. The sun had almost disappeared behind the distant ridge, its dying rays caressing the two warriors locked in a posture of honor. Teyla's breathing faltered at the sight.

The Satedan broke the silence of the moment when he cried out again, swinging his tomahawk with both hands at Mogodda's chest. The chieftain blocked it with his own then grabbed the hilt of Ronon's hatchet, yanking him closer and wrenching the weakened man around, locking the back of his head into place against his tattooed breast with the wooden hilt of the hatchet. Ronon gasped as his leg spasmed violently and his body, barely able to support his own weight, was now wrenched into a position from which he could not escape.

Teyla watched in breathless horror as Mogodda yanked the handle violently, attempting to stop Ronon's weak resistance as the Satedan struggled against the hilt, then raised a bloodied knife, looking to the troop of warriors in silent confirmation that they were to witness his final blow, rendering him the victor. The blade caught the sunlight, glinting white on the blood, matching the sheen of Ronon's weeping, shuddering chest. She looked to his eyes which were nearly half-lidded as he continued to struggle to breathe, weakly tugging on the bruising hilt at his throat. The thought of never seeing the jade green of his eyes again awoke within her a primal rage that knew no fear.

Mogodda brought the knife down, releasing the hatchet to hold Ronon by the hair, angling the knife to slit his throat. Teyla used her elbow to knock one of the men restraining her in the jaw and kicked the other in the groin. Just as Mogodda was readying his arm to yank the knife across the Satedan's neck, Teyla crossed the few paces to him and as he looked to her in surprise, she hurled her lower body to first kick the knife out of his hand then kick him in the shoulder with her heel. Mogodda released the Satedan who slumped onto the blood-slick rock.

The chieftain's back was to the cliff and he raised his hatchet with a snarl at the Athosian. His muscles rippled as he began to swing and Teyla screamed, swinging a leg into the air for momentum then kicking him on the side again with a force that sent him off-balance. Her footing slipped as she landed and she caught herself on the side of her thigh, watching with satisfaction as Mogodda jerked stiffly, attempting to keep his balance. His arm holding his tomahawk was leaning over his shoulder and the weight of the weapon undid him as his feet slipped in Ronon's blood and with a yelp, he disappeared over the edge of the cliff. There was a crunching thunk as he landed.

Teyla panted as she whipped her head about to face the other warriors who had made no move to stop her. They had watched with rapt attention and now several looked to Teyla who rose to her feet. One stepped forward and withdrew his knife. She tensed, knowing that she couldn't fight the rest of the warriors with bound hands and no weapons, yet the man slowed as he approached, making a quiet sound and lowering his blade unthreateningly. He curled his fingertips, beckoning her forward.

Cocking her head a little, she warily did as she was bid. Once within a foot of the warrior he slowly stepped behind her, making eye contact with her over her shoulder before sliding the blade between her bonds and cutting her free. He then stepped away from her, backing up respectfully and sheathing his knife. He turned to say something to the others and though their eyes lingered a bit longer, they resumed their trek. The warrior who had set her free brought up the rear and inclined his head to her in acknowledgement before turning his back to her. She gingerly touched her scabbing, throbbing wrists, waiting until the column had ceased glancing back at her before showing any weakness in her stance, understanding that she had finished the duel that Ronon had started, winning her freedom.

She looked down to her teammate as soon as she felt she could risk it. He had rolled onto his back, his body wet from lying in his own blood, and was trying to climb to his feet. His name was barely a whisper on her lips as she knelt beside him, holding out a hand to help him but staying it, not knowing where to place it to aid him. "Ronon?"

He didn't respond with his usual lie of being fine. Instead he gasped quietly, sitting up on one hip. The shaking of the arm that steadied him alarmed her, as did the amount of blood, yet the wound on his chest seemed to be clotting. The hoarse wheeze of his voice broke into her assessment of his injuries. "Are you okay?"

She looked to his ashen face, noting the small beads of sweat gathered on his brow then nodded solemnly. "Yes, I will be fine."

Though relief showed in his eyes, they still traveled her length, looking her over for injuries. "They didn't hurt you?"

Tears were stinging her eyes as she took in his weak form, wondering how they could possibly make their way back to the 'gate when he was so gravely injured. "Only a little."

He sighed and lay back down, closing his eyes as exhaustion hummed through his body, dulling the pain and muffling his coherent thought. She leaned over him, her brows furrowing. "Ronon?" She rested her hand on his collarbone.

Though it took a heartbeat longer than she would have liked, he opened his eyes again and sought hers questioningly.

She bit her lower lip and cupped his cheeks with her hands, leaving red stains from his blood on her fingers. "Ronon, I know you are tired and hurt, but I need you to stay awake. You must stay awake and focused for we are leaving this place and going home to get you help, alright?"

She could see his eyes fighting to maintain focus as he whispered "Home?"

Teyla felt a tear snake down her cheek as she nodded. "Yes. _Home_. You have a home Ronon, in Atlantis."

The faintest smile tugged at his lips as he continued to gaze at her face, his breathing short and shallow. "Wherever you are."

She returned the small smile, moving a hand to hold his. "We will return there together. I promise." His smile lingered and she squeezed his hand, furrowing her brow and willing her own strength into his body. "But you have to stand now, Ronon, so that I may help you walk and we can return home."

He nodded mutely then pulled on their linked hands for support as he attempted to rise. She leaned back and rose with him, grabbing him around the waist to steady him, supporting more of his weight than she had hoped she would have to.

* * *

_**Please review!**_

* * *

"Kinderly," by The Mediæval Bæbes, is in a form of Middle English. The below translation is fairly accurate and has been translated into more eloquent Modern English. Though I did not translate it personally, as a student of the more ancient form of our language, Old English, I can assure you that this translation is a good one! In the lyrics, however, I have replaced the word for Jesus with "Winter," for obvious reasons.

My arrival here is natural  
Into this world with tears and crying;  
What I have is not much, and poor at that,  
Frail and too quickly I have fallen from on high,  
My death is sharp and severe,  
I do not know where I am going,  
foul and stinking I rot,  
O, Winter have mercy on me!


	8. VIII Emboldened

**http/ nowislight4. Emboldened.html **

**VIII. Emboldened**

They had been able to reach the fern-filled patch of forest where Ronon had temporarily sheltered before he was attacked, and Teyla had stepped over the half-eaten body of the slain warrior to retrieve Ronan's shirt before returning to where she'd left him leaning against a tree. They continued on a ways until the light began to fail and the birds quieted before they stopped for the night. The thick trees let in little of the light of the pale sky of dusk. Teyla was gathering dried, rotting pieces of wood and leaves as kindling. Though he was awkwardly seated with his injured leg stretched out before him, Ronon attempted to help by gathering a few handfuls of leaves from the forest floor beside him and tossing them onto the wood.

A smile shone in her eyes as she watched him then sat back on her haunches, anxious to get a fire started so that she could have the light to tend to his injuries. "Now what?"

"You still have my knife?"

She nodded.

"There's a river about a quarter mile that way." He pointed down the hill. "It looked like some flint was washed onto the bank during a storm, but I could be wrong."

She was already on her feet. "I will look as quickly as I can."

He nodded. His skin was waxy and his movement, even his blinking, was lethargic.

"Ronon," she quietly said as she touched his cheek when he began to stare at the unlit fire. He blinked to her. "You _must_ remain awake. Can you do that?"

His eyes were locked onto hers as he nodded.

She encouraged him with a smile. "I will be back as soon as I am able."

He nodded weakly again with a quiet, "Okay."

She gave him another smile before hurrying down the slope, bracing herself against trunks, ignoring the pain of her feet and wrists until she reached the river. The rocks were difficult to discern in the near-darkness so she gathered up several, hoping that one of them would serve the intended purpose. Hurrying up the hill with an armful of rocks strained her thighs but she pressed onward without pause, the fear of possibly finding Ronon unconscious upon her return lending her strength.

She smiled in relief when he turned to look at her upon her approach. His shoulders slumped as he recognized her and he lowered the hand that was holding his knife defensively. She dumped her load of rocks before him. "Can you tell? Will one of these be of use?"

Ronon languidly looked down at the rocks, clearing his throat. "Hard to tell in this light."

She nodded, unnerved by how husky his voice had become, knowing that with so much blood loss and the exhaustion of his pursuit he was in desperate need of water. "Then I will try them all."

He weakly offered her his knife and she took it, her eyebrows knitted in worry as she held it and a rock over the fire and began striking the blade on the edge. Sparks were produced but none lived long enough to ignite the leaves. "Try another," Ronon rasped.

She nodded and by the third stone, smoke was rising. She blew gently, sheltering the small flame with her hands as she blew. The surrounding leaves caught and the wood began to smoke and burn.

"You did it."

She looked over her shoulder at Ronon who was smiling faintly. She returned her gaze to the fire, adding larger pieces of wood and blowing gently. "I have made many fires in my life, but I have started none as such."

When he didn't respond she looked at him over her shoulder. He was examining his chest wound in the flickering light cast by the flames. Once she was assured that the fire would last while she tended to Ronon, she scooted over to his discarded shirt. She hastily set to work, cutting the cloth into strips to use as makeshift bandages. Once she finished, she gently urged his hands away from the wound and examined the injury. The deepest portion was across his chest and the cut became shallower closer to his opposite hip. She smiled a little, glancing to his face. "It is not as deep as I feared."

His eyes held hers for a moment before he looked down to his wound again. She readied a bandage, reaching around him to tie it securely in place around his chest. "How is your leg?"

He looked down to it as he made it twitch. "...I can't really move it."

She nodded in understanding, grateful that the bleeding had stopped earlier in the evening while Ronon had given her the brief summary of what had happened after she was taken. She had been relieved to hear that the rest of her teammates were relatively unharmed and alive and hoped that they were now searching for her and her comrade.

Teyla shifted to better examine what she could see of the wound on the back of his thigh and Ronon tried to shift his weight to help her see. As gently as she could, she cut away the leather of his breeches around the wound then bound it tightly with several strips of fabric. The light was too poor and his wounds were too obscured with blood clots and dried blood to accurately assess their severity, but the fact that they had stopped bleeding gave her a glimmer of hope.

She finished tying on the last bandage and saw that she still had several. She reached for them to use to further bind his chest and she paused to study his hunched form in the firelight. He was shivering and fighting to stay awake, enduring physical pain that she didn't even want to imagine, all for the sake of her rescue. She looked back to the bandage held in her bloodied fingertips then leaned forward to gently bind it around his waist. He lifted his arms one at a time as she secured the bandage then reached for another, pausing to look him in the eye. "Ronon?"

His eyes glittered in the firelight as he looked to her.

"...Thank you."

A corner of his mouth lifted in a smile before he bashfully looked down at the bandage in her hands, yet when he felt her eyes lingering upon him he looked up again and all trace of a smile was gone. His eyes found hers once more and for several heartbeats all that could be heard was the hissing and snapping of the fire and the chirps of the cooing insects. Her eyes traveled to the dried blood stains left on his cheeks by her fingers earlier in the day. Folding the fabric strip in half, she licked the folded tip then leaned in, gently wiping his cheek clean. His eyes remained upon hers as she did so, feeling the soft brush of her fingertips against his cheekbone. She cleaned the other cheek in the same manner then allowed her eyes to find his, the warmth of his breath against her bared skin eliciting goosebumps.

Her eyes flicked from his gaze to his lips then back again as he closed the small distance between them, pressing his lips against hers. She closed her eyes as the warmth of his kiss sent pleasant fireflies darting about in her chest as she kissed him back, gently cupping his cheek. After several thudding heartbeats he pulled back for a breath but her lips followed his, stealing another short kiss. He exhaled and gently kissed her cheek beside her nose before pulling away again, his quivering chest unable to support sitting upright any longer.

She moved her hand from his cheek to support his shoulders as she helped him lie down on his back. He winced and let out a squeaky groan of pain as he settled down. Teyla cocked her head at him, tucking her hair behind her ears, wishing there were more that she could do for him. She glanced to the flames. "Can you feel the heat?"

He nodded, attempting to take a deep breath and wincing again.

She ran her fingertips across his forehead and he opened his eyes, looking up at her as she panted. "You should rest but... I am afraid you will not wake."

He shook his head slightly. "I'll wake."

She smiled a little, tracing her knuckles down his cheek, her heart lifting with unfurling blossoms as she began to accept what that kiss had meant and what the future might hold for them both. She turned back to the fire with renewed determination seeping into her aching limbs, adding more wood to fuel more heat, hoping to chase away the coolness that clung to his skin. She almost didn't hear his quiet, wheezing voice through the snapping of the fire as she placed a termite-eaten pine branch on the flames. "Teyla?"

"Yes?" she replied as she poked the branch with another and looked for a place to add it.

"...I'm falling in love with you."

She froze in her actions and pivoted to look at him.

His half-lidded gaze, shimmering in the firelight, was upon her and his eyes glowed dimly with adoration.

She parted her lips as she studied him, her chest fluttering with half-answers, all of which seemed inadequate in response. The fire hissed and crackled behind her and within a few heartbeats Ronon's eyes slid from hers to the flames, increasingly lidded until they slipped shut. She didn't know how much time passed as she watched him fall asleep, rooted in place by his confession and feeling a tingling warmth breathe through her frame, inching its way through her limbs. A small part of her was sure that he had only said it because he was barely conscious and delusional, as he had been on Sateda when he had called her Melena, but the part of her heart that beat most ardently told her that his words only confirmed what she had already known to be true from his actions.

At length she placed the branch in the fire then scooted to his side, lost in observing the rise and fall of his chest until she lay down beside him, tangling a hand in his and resting her free hand on the uninjured flesh above his heart as a physical reassurance that he was alive. She nestled her forehead against his bicep, wanting to hold him to share her warmth but not wanting to risk aggravating his injuries further. Closing her eyes, she kissed the skin of his arm nearest to her lips then smiled wistfully, emboldened by the beat of his heart and the solitude of the forest. "I am, as well."

_**Please review!**_


	9. IX Looming Into Heartstrings

**IX. Looming Into Heartstrings**

Teyla awoke the next morning in the pale light just before dawn. The birds were loudly chirping and cooing, swooping from branch to branch. She detangled herself from the sleeping Satedan, brushing a few pebbles and pieces of leaves off her cheek as she sat up, her joints stiff. She tucked her tangling hair behind her ears and studied Ronon whose chest rose and fell reassuringly.

The fire had gone out but the warmth she felt when she hovered her hands above the small pit told her that there was still enough heat in the ash-covered embers to start it again. She gathered more dry leaves and a stick and used it to stir the coals before placing the leaves on top and blowing gently. Once she had a flame, she added the remaining wood from the previous night. She looked to Ronon again when she was done, assuring herself that he would be alright while she left for a few minutes.

After going to the bathroom, she made her way back down to the river, washing her hands in the icy water of snowmelt and rinsing off her face, careful of the bruises there. She then began to wander the exposed portion of the bank, looking for berry bushes among the riparian plants. Though she found none, she was able to identify and dig up several roots. She washed the dirt from them before returning to Ronon, pleased that the water they held would aid him.

He was still asleep when she returned and she couldn't hide the rising panic in her voice as her several attempts to rouse him failed. "Ronon?" She shook his shoulders more violently. She grinned when he groaned in response, and she brushed her fingertips across his forehead then rested her hand on his cheek. His eyelids fluttered open then slid back shut as he sighed. She cocked her head at him. "Ronon?"

A few heartbeats later he groaned out a, "Hmmm?" making her smile again.

"You need to wake up now. The sun has almost risen and I have breakfast."

He cracked open an eye and looked at her before yawning and struggling to get his stiff elbows beneath him to sit up. She helped him support his back as he did so, and then offered him the largest root. He took it with a quiet "thanks," looking paler now that he was sitting up. He took a small bite of the root, surprised by its sharp taste.

Teyla was glancing over his makeshift bandages. Though most were stained yellows and reds, none of his wounds had bled significantly throughout the night. She smiled at that and gently rubbed his bare shoulder, causing him to look at her. She tilted her head. "How are you feeling?"

His only response was to look away and she resisted a sigh, knowing how hard the day's journey was going to be for him.

He took another bite and waited until he had chewed and swallowed it before looking to her again. "How about you?" His voice sounded stronger, at least.

She moved her palm from his shoulder to take his free hand in both of hers. "Much better now that you are awake."

Her words seemed to catch him by surprise for he studied her face for a moment before smiling hesitantly, weakly squeezing her hands before taking another bite.

She squeezed back then told him to eat as much as he could, returning her attention to the fire but not adding any further fuel, knowing that they should get going once the sun was up again. She took a bite of a root, running over the landmarks in her mind. With both her and Ronon's combined memory of the route she was sure they would reach the village and the stargate within a matter of days. Yet she was unsure as to how much ground Ronon would be able to cover and how much longer he would be fit for travel. Without proper care, his wounds would become infected and she knew that she would lose him if she could not help him soon. But for now, her main goal was to get him as close to the village as possible and she once more shut out the dire possibilities the future might hold since they were of little assistance.

Ronon had finished the root she had given him but refused to eat the others, claiming he felt like he might throw up. Though she knew he needed to rest and heal, she helped him to his feet. He cried out in pain as he did so as his stiff, injured leg shot searing pain up through his hips, joining the chorus of pain from his chest. Teyla winced, shouldering one of his arms to help support him as he cringed and attempted to catch his breath. "I am sorry."

He shook his head a little, muttering, "Not your fault."

She waited until the pain had passed and he said that he felt ready before slowly beginning their trek once more. She could feel his body temperature rising as he strained to continue moving and her worry increased. He had lost a large amount of blood and his body was certainly not ready for descending a mountainside, but they had to try. They had to fight.

They spoke little and Teyla felt better when they reached the stream and Ronon was able to drink some water. She untied one of his loose bandages and gently washed away much of the dried blood from his skin. He closed his eyes in the morning light, letting its warmth ease into his muscles, seeping strength into them as Teyla began to quietly hum as she ran the strip of fabric over his bare skin. He opened her eyes when she broke out of her hum to sing, rinsing the cloth out in the river water then wiping at a blood stain again.

"When the moon on a cloud cast night  
shine above the tree tops' height  
You sang me of some distant past  
That made my heart beat strong and fast  
Now I know I'm home at last

You offered me an eagle's wing  
That to the sun I might soar and sing  
And if I heard the owl's cry  
Into the forest I would fly  
And in its darkness find you by.

And so our love's not a simple thing  
Nor our truths unwavering  
But like the moon's pull on the tide  
Our fingers touch our hearts collide  
I'll be a moon's breath from your side."

Her voice slithered under his skin, lending him a tickling strength that seemed to loom into his heartstrings. She rinsed out the cloth a final time and kissed the bare skin of his back, for it now bore gooseflesh. The warmth of her lips against his haunted skin made him inhale sharply and when she looked to him questioningly, he merely lowered his temple to rest against her shoulder. She smiled and set the cloth aside, leaning her head against his, cradling his locks with her arm. For several long heartbeats all that could be heard was the slosh of the hissing river and the birds calls as the winged sought their first meals of the day. At length she pulled her head away from his with a quiet, "We must be on our way."

By the time the sun was high in the sky, so were Teyla's hopes. Ronon had been keeping up well and though they had stopped for a rest in the heat, he assured her that he could continue for another few hours.

As dusk began to settle over the forest once more, Teyla repeated the routine of the night before by building another small fire. Ronon was quiet as he lay down next to the flames and Teyla doubled back on the trail to pick some edible blossoms that they had passed earlier.

Ronon appeared to be sleeping when she returned, yet when she quietly prodded him with his name he opened his eyes halfway. She smiled and knelt beside him, setting down the blossoms to feel his forehead. She jerked her hand away when she did so, surprised by the heat encased in his flesh. Her voice was startled. "You have a fever." He gazed at her as if only half aware, having not flinched at her sudden movement a moment before. She looked to his bandages and his still-wet wounds. "Your injuries are infected..." Her mind raced in a panic, not having expected this to happen so soon and attempting to determine a course of action to help him as soon as possible, yet none seemed plausible. She looked back to his face and this time he seemed to recognize her alarm.

His voice was hoarse. "What?"

She shook her head a little as her throat tightened. "You are getting much worse. You may not be able to travel tomorrow." He continued to gaze at her and she licked her lips, unable to accept the thought that all their efforts, all they'd fought for had been in vain. "I could go on ahead to bring back help but even if I did not rest at night it would still take several days and there is no sign of Colonel Sheppard or the others."

He sighed, his eyes shying from hers over to the flowers she'd set on the ground.

She followed his gaze then hastily wiped at a tear on her cheek. "Ronon... I do not know what to do. I cannot abandon you, but without help, you will die."

His gaze shifted back to hers and his light green eyes looked more focused. "I know," he said, his voice quiet. "It's okay."

She cocked her head slightly as another tear escaped. Her eyes searched his. "No, Ronon, it most certainly is _not_."

He sighed, looking down at the wilting flowers then up to her eyes again. "I've been dying for a long time, Teyla."

She shook her head. "No, Ronon. You are _strong_. You are the strongest man I have ever known and you will _not_ give up. Not like this." She held his hand in-between hers.

He blinked languidly, shaking his head minutely. "For so long I have lived for the sole sake of surviving, without purpose or meaning. But if I am to die now, then at least I know I did some good." He squeezed her hand as her lips parted and tears slid down her cheeks. "Cuz when I look into your eyes, I know why I survived all this time. I remember why living is worthwhile."

A quiet sob escaped her as she pressed his hand to her cheek. "I love you, Ronon."

A happy, playful light danced in his eyes as he slowly lifted half of his mouth in a muted, cocky smile and his voice cracked a little. "Yeah... guess I went through all of this cuz I kinda like you, too."

She returned his lopsided smile with one of her own, shifting his hand to her lips to kiss it before sniffling. Her smile faded before his tired one did. "Promise me you will hold on for as long as you can."

He nodded a little, his smile slowly fading. "I always will."

She squeezed his hand again with another small smile. "Good." She ran her thumb over the back of his hand for a while as she lost track of time, gazing into the tired tranquility of his eyes before pecking his cheek and bidding him to sleep, the shriveling blossoms forgotten beside her. She remained awake for a while longer, fretting over what to do to try and save him. Then, careful of his injuries, she lay down beside his fevered form, gently sliding her arms around his chest in a hug.

She wept quietly in the night when she was awoken by the unnatural heat of his now-shivering body, feeling as if she were helplessly letting him slip through her fingers.

**_ Please review!_**

**Author's Note:** The song "Samain Night" and lyrics by Loreena McKennitt from her album _Parallel Dreams_.


	10. X Failing Light

**X. Failing Light**

She awoke from the loud birdsong the next morning and the world was once more the blue-gray of pre-dawn. Ronon was still shivering and was now writhing slightly, sweating moisture that he couldn't afford to lose. She shook his shoulders several times and called his name in an attempt to wake him but to no avail. In the dim light she could see that his chest wound was beginning to seep. She felt his pulse in his neck - it was still strong but his heart rate was elevated. She leaned back on her haunches, knowing with a growing desperation and despair that there was nothing more she could do for him.

_I have to get help..._

She glanced around their small camp then back to Ronon's restless form. She reached out to smooth a hand over his sweaty brow before leaning in to lightly kiss his temple, whispering "I will be back as soon as I am able, Ronon. Hold on." She squeezed his hand before rising, taking a few steps backward, hating to leave him so alone and vulnerable but not seeing any other option aside from watching him die from injuries he sustained for her. Tearing her eyes away from his form proved more difficult than she had expected as worries of never seeing him again after this moment chorused in her head like the swarming of bees. After one last gaze she hastily turned her back on him and sped downhill, running recklessly, ignoring the bleeding pain in her feet as she slipped and slided down the slope.

She ignored her fatigue as much as she could, moving without stopping until she reached the river that that the band had swung over on a rope, one by one. When they had crossed they had temporarily cut her bonds so that she could hold onto the rope to swing across. She had been half tempted to let go of the twine and fall into the rushing river, praying she would survive the current. But she had held on and she now searched for the rope, finding it where Ronon had tucked it into the branches.

She readied herself for the swing across, making sure her grip would not falter, then paused. In spite of the roar of the white water before her, she could have sworn she could hear the chirp of a radio. She held still, calming her breathing as she listened. A few heartbeats later she heard it again.

"John!?" she shouted but there was no answer. She took a deep breath and bellowed again, struggling to raise her voice above the rush of the river. "John! Hello! Rodney!" She paused. "Anyone!?"

She listened intently but heard only the river. Her shoulders slumped and she began to question ever hearing the sound as she exhaled, once more ready to swing on the rope yet freezing when she heard a faint "...Teyla?" coming from up on the mountainside on the opposite shore.

Her face broke into a full grin as she recognized Sheppard's voice, relief surging in her chest. "John! John, I am by the river!"

She could make out a faint, "Hang on!" and her eyes constantly roved the parallel line of trees until she eventually saw the green and black of an Atlantis uniform. She could recognize Sheppard's hair as he slipped down the hillside towards the riverbank and she broke into another huge grin as she waved, flooding with adrenaline. "John!"

He waved back, also smiling before bellowing, "Are you okay?" as McKay, Dr. Beckett, Lorne and a few Marines slipped down the hillside after him.

"Yes, but Ronon is gravely injured – he needs help immediately!"

Sheppard turned to say something to his teammates before turning back to her and shouting, "Send over the rope – take Beckett and Lorne to Ronon. I'm gonna fly Ferguson's Jumper and try to get low enough over the river to get you guys onboard!"

She nodded then shoved the rope. It swung across the water and Sheppard and Lorne lunged forward to catch it. Lorne swung over first, followed by Beckett. The major radioed Sheppard across the river, telling him that they were clear. After assuring Beckett that her injuries were only superficial she began to hastily lead the two men back up the trail, explaining the nature of Ronon's injuries and what happened to both her and Ronon along the way.

The group reached Teyla's camp from the previous night as the sun was beginning to sink towards the horizon. She fell to her knees at Ronon's side, checking his pulse, startled by his stillness. Beckett mimicked her, pulling out his stethoscope and listening to his chest. "It's unsteady but he has a strong beat." He felt his skin. "Jaysus, he's practically on fire."

Teyla had shifted Ronon's head to her lap and was absently brushing the baby hairs off his face, looking to Carson with knitted brows. "Can you help him?"

Carson nodded, glancing to her. "Aye. He has a serious infection but from what you've told me, let's hope it hasn't yet had the opportunity to turn into something worse."

Lorne finished scouting the area and stood beside them. "What can I do to help, Doc?"

Beckett glanced around as he measured out a large dose of Penicillin. "Make a travois of some sort. We've got to get him back to the river as soon as possible."

Teyla nodded curtly, gently sliding her knees out from under Ronon's head before accompanying Lorne to fell a few saplings. She looked at the other man as they stripped the young pine of its branches. "How did you know where to find me?"

Lorne glanced at her, his brow wet with sweat. "We didn't. Ronon left a few markers for us to follow but that guy was in such a hurry it was hard to say."

She nodded, tucking some hair back before returning to work again, using the large knife Ronon had given her to hack at the thin branches. "I do not believe he stopped."

"Yeah, that guy's like a freight train." He shook his head a little as he worked. "I sure hope he makes it."

She glanced at him with a thin line between her brows then back down to her cutting since they were nearly finished. "He will."

Lorne pulled back as she hacked off the last branch, wiping his brow. "You know, it's funny – you had perfect timing."

Teyla motioned for him to help her drag the thin trunk a few feet away. "What do you mean?" She crossed over to the second felled tree and started work, as did Lorne.

"I hunt with my dad sometimes. I have since I was a kid. So I was helping lead Sheppard and the boys on the trail. The lifesigns detector was no good since there are so many animals around so we had to do things the old fashioned way. We were making good time when I heard you, but that trail I was following would have led us in the complete opposite direction of where you were."

She glanced over again, her hands getting cut from yanking off the poky pine branches. "Then perhaps it was meant to be."

Lorne smirked, glancing at her as well. "Maybe."

They finished the makeshift stretcher within an hour and though it didn't look like it would be very comfortable, it would get the job done well enough. Beckett had replaced Ronon's temporary bandages with sanitized medical gauze. With Teyla in the lead they reached the river just as the light was failing.

Lorne radioed Sheppard who had asked his fellow pilot, Ferguson, to take off from the village and to fly up the large river. Ferguson was able to hover over a beach nearby but didn't think that the riverway was wide enough for the rest of the journey. After meeting him at the beach, Sheppard took over and upon receiving Lorne's call, he powered up the shields and flew as close to the crossing as possible, snapping branches along the way.

Beckett and his group only had to wait a few minutes before the jumper arrived, lowering its ramp so that a corner touched the dirt embankment. Carson and Lorne hurried in with Ronon. Teyla glanced over her shoulder for a final look at the forest as it shifted into darkness before climbing on board as well.

_**Please review! **_


	11. XI Epilogue  An Intimate Whisper

**XI. Epilogue – An Intimate Whisper**

His movement in the hospital bed next to hers caught her eye and she smiled at him as he awoke. His injured leg had been operated upon and was now wrapped in gauze, propped on some pillows so that the incision on the back of his thigh didn't touch the mattress. His chest felt stiff and each breath expanded tired muscles, but the crippling pain was gone and the light-headed warmth of pain killer was softly humming through his system. His lazy mind began to attempt to remember how he had wound up in the hospital but Teyla's voice interrupted his thoughts. "How are you feeling?"

He turned to look at her, a little surprised and confused to see her also in a bed, but upon noticing the bruise on her cheek and her cracked lips, he remembered everything that happened in the past week. His throat was burning in its dryness and he swallowed before he spoke. His voice was raspy and he tried to clear his throat but to little avail. "I'm good. You?"

She smiled again then wiggled the toes of her bandaged feet. "Dr. Beckett saw it fit to treat the silliest of injuries."

A corner of his mouth lifted in a smile as he saw her toes peeking out of the gauze. "It's not silly if they're hurt."

She followed his gaze to her feet. "They are certainly on the mend."

His eyes had moved back to her face. "Good." His voice squeaked and he winced a little at the unintentional sound.

"Carson warned me that your throat may be sore. He had to place a tube down it to help you breathe during the surgery."

Ronon nodded a little. "On my leg?"

"Yes. You will have to take it easy for several months."

His eyes widened a little and his voice squeaked comically once more. "Months?"

She tried to look away to hide her amused smile but was too late.

A light danced in his eyes as he narrowed them. "You're laughing at me."

She shook her head no yet her giggle at his squeaky voice betrayed her. He looked away in mock-disbelief and she apologized to his profile. "I am sorry. Truly."

"Yeah right," he tried to drawl but it came out as a rasp. He looked back to her. "How'd we get back here?"

Teyla sobered and told him of the events while he was unconscious. "Carson wanted me to remain for a few days so that my feet could heal and he could be sure that I rested."

He sighed, looking up at the ceiling, wondering at all that had happened without his knowing and at the risks his friends had taken to help him. Knowing that he was safely back in Atlantis after all that had happened was surreal. When he felt Teyla's eyes lingering on him he looked back to her.

Her elegant features seemed chiseled of stone as she gazed at him with the penetrating brown of her eyes, a thin line between her brows. His face relaxed questioningly beneath her gaze and after a few heartbeats she spoke. "You had a very high fever, Ronon. I could not wake you. I was so frightened that..." she trailed off and she didn't need to voice what her morbid fear had been.

He swallowed hard, studying her face then extended his IV-free arm, hoping it could reach hers. She glanced to it then looked around before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and hobbling over to his. He greeted her with a smile as she perched on the opposite side of his bed as his injured leg then lay down beside him.

He kissed her cheek as she did so and she pecked the corner of his lips before resting her head on his shoulder, tangling her hand with his and draping the other over his abdomen. "I am not hurting you, am I?"

He shook his head no with a small smile, feeling a tickling warmth spread through him as he breathed in the scent of her hair and felt the gentle bump of her heart in her breast pressed against his side. "Not at all."

She smiled again then kissed his shoulder. "I am so grateful for you." She squeezed his hand. "Thank you."

His voice was quiet as he gazed at her, his eyes adoringly tracing what he could see of the gentle curves of her face. "No. Thank you."

She lifted her head to look him in the eye, raising her brows questioningly. "For?"

Her expression teased another smile out of him and for a few heartbeats all he could do was attempt to memorize her face. "...For saving me."

Her eyebrows twitched together as she parted her lips, ready to respond with what he knew was an explanation of her actions to get him help in the forest, but he needed her to know that her aid when he was wounded was certainly not all that he meant, so he leaned forward slightly until their lips met.

For a moment a question was on her tongue until she understood, but within a few heartbeats time and space disappeared and all she felt was her blooming affection for Ronon and the pleasant thrill of the pulse of his lips. He made a squeaky, happy sound and she giggled lightly, pulling away as she did so to bump her nose against his and cup his cheek. "Would you like to know what you are going to be doing for those resting months?"

He leaned up and pecked her lips again with a quiet "What?"

She returned his kiss then gently slid her hand back to its resting place over his abdomen, laying her head back down on his shoulder. "...Just this." She gave him a small squeeze and she felt his nose and lips brush against her forehead in gratitude.

He sighed as he laid his head back against the pillow, feeling the sluggishness of sleep dulling his senses. His voice was an intimate whisper. "Your nearness gives me such strength."

She smiled, raising her chin to look up to his heavily-lidded eyes. "As does yours."

He faintly returned her smile and she shifted her weight to raise their entwined hands to her lips as she kissed his knuckles, knowing he was on the verge of sleep. His smile faded slightly as his eyes slipped shut and she laid her head back against his shoulder. Though she wasn't tired, she was more than content to lie there beside him, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart that had so captivated hers.

**_ Author's Note: _**_Thank you so very kindly to all who have read, and especially to those who have reviewed! I hope that you have enjoyed this tale. Now it's off to school... and working on my next fic:o) _


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